


Untitled Truck Stop AU

by JessRoseDraws



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sex Worker and Mountain Recluse, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Brief Use of Marijuana, Coming Out, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Negative Result, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, M/M, Meet-Ugly, Mentions of Past Abuse of Power, Mentions of Past Relationships/Exes, Mutual Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prostitution, Rimming, Sex Worker Bucky Barnes, Sexual Activity While Drunk, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Vague Mentions of HIV Anxiety/Fear, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-01-16 05:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 48,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21265874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessRoseDraws/pseuds/JessRoseDraws
Summary: Steve lives his life exactly the way he wants to, he's got his routine, his work, and the last thing he wants is for something, or someone, to mess that up for him. It's all going well until one day a stranger comes into his world and threatens to change it forever, unless he can keep himself from letting that happen.(Alternately: two lonely men find an unlikely friendship in each other, and perhaps maybe more)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this #ThisSteveThisBucky [tweet](https://twitter.com/inflomora_art/status/1146286272123736065) by @inflomora_art, if you're interested in the looks I was basing these characters around!
> 
> Also to be fair, only the beginning takes place at a truck stop, "truck stop AU" came from the original idea and it branched off from there, it's more of a cabin AU haha.
> 
> Big thank you to @softestbuck and @bucksomebarnes on twitter for all the help, encouragement, and support. You guys put up with a lot and I'm grateful to have you.

**UNTITLED TRUCK STOP AU**

_Or: Bury My Heart in the Bitterroot Mountains_

* * *

1996

Steve Rogers is not the kind of guy who likes to deviate from his carefully constructed routine. After years of experience he knows exactly what he likes, what he needs, and the last thing he wants is for something, or someone, to interfere with the quiet solitude of a life he’s built for himself. Each morning starts early, just after the sun rises over the trees. He makes himself a simple breakfast of whatever he has on hand, usually left overs from the last night’s dinner, and drinks his coffee on his front porch if it’s nice out or at the kitchen table if it’s not. The majority of his days are spent working around his property, tending to his garden to keep his food bills down, or mending whatever needs fixin’ that day, it always seems to be something. Even his monthly trips to town have a certain familiarity to them. The route is always the same, taking his rusted old pickup along the winding dirt road down the mountain to the highway then out through flat plains and wide open skies toward civilization. 

His first stop is always Eddie’s, the combination motel-truckstop at the edge of town, which also happens to include his favorite restaurant, the only one he ever goes to anymore. The little bell rings the same as always as he steps into the room and nods a greeting to Bill, the resident old timer who always sits at the corner table by the door, reading the day’s paper. Steve figures he must be there every morning, by the looks of it, there’s never been a time Steve hasn’t seen him in that exact spot. Next, he says his customary ‘mornin’’ to Gladys when she’s working or Janet when she’s not, and takes his same old seat at the counter, three stools from the end. There’s always a black coffee waiting for him before he sits down and he doesn’t even need to order anymore, he’s just greeted with a ‘the usual?’ and answers with a nod. Chicken fried steak is the meal he chooses to treat himself with and he always gets a side of hashbrowns and sausage gravy, two fried eggs over easy, and a cold glass of plain old iced tea to wash it all down. No sense in mixing it up at all. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it, right? 

The hardware store is his next stop to stock up on supplies he ran low on over the last month, and not the new Ace store that moved into town last year either, even if they’ve got better prices. No, Steve takes his business to Anderson’s like he always has, he’ll gladly pay the extra costs if it helps keep a family business he feels loyal to afloat, that’s just the kind of guy he is. After that he stops at the grocery store to pick up essentials he can’t grow himself, he has no choice but to go to one of the new chain stores for that since his old go-to grocer closed down three months ago, and it was the last local one in town. His last stop is the gas station to fill his pickup with just enough gas to get home and back again next month, then he heads off back up the mountain toward home where he cooks himself up a quick dinner and eats alone with his cat then retires to his empty bed. It’s quiet and it’s comfortable, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Not much changes in Steve’s life and he’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much. 

Two months ago while cutting his chicken fried steak into bite sized pieces, he noticed an unfamiliar face sitting at the other end of the counter, five bar stools down from his usual spot. In itself, this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary seeing as Eddie’s is a truck stop and strangers comin’ and going is just standard business, but this man in particular caught his eye nonetheless. James, as Gladys called him with a smile as she refilled his coffee, couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, he figured, and tall enough to match Steve’s own height. Now, Steve ain’t the sort of guy to pay attention to what someone’s wearin’ or anything like that, not if he doesn’t have to, but this fella James’ clothes stood out to him. He was wearing a soft looking green flannel under a worn denim jacket and jeans, which Steve couldn’t help but notice were much too tight for doin’ any sort of hard work, and not the sort of jeans folks around these parts usually wear. If Steve’s eyes drifted down the man’s back to where the denim hugged the curve of his ass as he leaned over the counter, or if the way he filled out the front when he turned around made Steve’s mouth water, that ain’t no fault of his own, it can’t exactly be helped. To top everything off he had a mop of dark, messy loose curls falling over his forehead and the kind of face a person either wants to fight or fuck and Steve wasn’t quite sure which yet. 

The fact that Steve remembered or even noticed any of this in the first place wouldn’t normally be an issue, attractive strangers of all kinds came and went and of course Steve noticed em’, he’s human after all, and there ain’t nothin’ wrong with looking. But for the rest of his meal he couldn’t stop glancing in the stranger’s direction, distracted by the way he leaned casually against the counter, surveying the room like he was lookin’ for something, or someone. 

James, Steve thought, surprised at himself for remembering his name, was there again the next month too. This time he was sitting at the back of the room, behind Steve’s usual spot in a plain white t-shirt stained with dirt or something, talking closely to an older stout man in a baseball cap, which meant Steve could eat his meal in peace without the unwelcome distraction James offered. Still, even without seeing him, Steve could feel his presence, teasing at the back of his mind as he tried to eat. He itched to chance another glance at him, just one more and he’d leave it be, just enough to hold him over until he could get him out of his head. But self control got the better of him, instead he turned his attention to the plate of food in front of him, embarrassed at himself for acting like a school boy with a fuckin’ crush or something. 

Halfway through his meal and a lot of focusing later, Steve was sure he was just shy of getting over the stranger fogging up his thoughts when he looked up in time to see the man James was talking to leading James out of the door with a hand on his lower back. That’s when it clicked, James wasn’t just some captivating stanger stickin’ around for kicks, he was a professional. Folks in that profession weren’t an uncommon sight of course, different ones came and went as they pleased, passing through on the wind and leaving just the same, but they weren’t usually men and they sure as hell never got into Steve’s head like James did. 

On his way out of the restaurant, as he headed toward his pickup, Steve noticed James hopping out of the cab of a rig across the parking lot, his hair messier than usual and his belt unbuckled, the fly of his jeans still open. Steve swallowed thickly, the sight igniting a want low in his gut he couldn’t quite shake. As he walked, gravel crunching under his work boots, he wondered what sorts of things James just did as he watched him run his hand through his hair, pushing it back away from his face. Steve’s thoughts quickly turned to wondering what sorts of things were just done _to him_, before shaking them out of his head and grabbing his keys out of his pocket. What the guy gets up to ain’t none of his damn business anyway. 

That night, Steve broke his routine. As soon as he got home he climbed into the shower to make quick work of getting the stranger out of his system. He spilled over his hand with James on his mind as the hot water ran over his trembling body, washing away the evidence of his infatuation down the drain. 

For the third month in a row, he’s there when Steve arrives, this time sitting at the opposite end of the counter working on a beer. He’s beautiful, he’s charming, he’s exactly the kind of trouble Steve neither wants or needs, that’s for sure, and he ain’t gonna let him get the best of him anymore. Still, Steve keeps chancing glances over when he hopes James won’t notice. He pushes gravy around his plate with his fork as he watches him bring the bottle to his lips and the way his throat works as he swallows, there still ain’t nothin’ wrong with lookin’ after all. 

Steve’s never had to pay for sex in the past and he isn’t about to start now. It isn’t like he’s looking for anything more than the view anyway and even if he was, it ain’t that important to him, his hand’s done him just fine by him up until now, hasn’t let him down yet. What matters to him is his peace and quiet and the comfort of his routine which currently includes this damn fine plate of food in front of him and nothin’ else, he tells himself. 

To no one’s surprise but Steve’s, James eventually catches Steve looking at him. Steve turns back to his plate as casually as he can, trying to ignore the feeling of baby blues still on him. His stomach twists as he sees James hop off his stool out of the corner of his eye. Steve silently curses at himself for being so damn stupid, he shoulda just left well enough alone. He busies himself with mixing his yolks into his hashbrowns, his stomach sick with nerves as James makes his way toward him. 

“Buy me another round?” James asks, holding up his nearly empty bottle and shaking it a little for added effect. His voice is lower than Steve imagined and silky smooth with the practiced ease of a man who does this for a living. 

“What’ll that get me?” Steve asks without looking up from his plate, his curiosity getting the better of him, figurin’ it won’t hurt to ask. He’s many things but he’s not stupid, he knows he’s being baited for a transaction and nothing more, even if James’ professional charms make him want to believe otherwise- that’s the whole idea after all. 

“Some conversation,” James smiles as he leans on the counter, his arm brushing against Steve’s as he sets his beer down, the hint of contact sending a shiver through Steve’s body, “maybe more.” 

“Don’t have much need for conversation,” Steve says, eyes still trained on his plate. 

“You know,” James says as he takes a seat on the barstool beside him, “I see you around here every so often and not once have you said more than three words to someone.” He takes another sip of his beer, “I’d say some conversation is exactly what you need.” 

Steve doesn’t answer, he just cuts a big piece off his chicken fried steak and shoves it into his mouth. He can feel James’ eyes on him still, watching him closely as he chews then swallows and reaches for his coffee. It makes him uneasy, being studied like that, like somehow he can see right into him and read him like a book. He swallows, hoping the cold shoulder treatment will do the trick and James will let him be. 

“Alright,” James says finally as he leans in closer, resting a hand across Steve’s shoulder, “how ‘bout I suck your dick for $25?” The way he asks it, so casually like it’s nothing more than saying good morning, mixed with a hint of a challenge on his sweet as honey voice gets under Steve’s skin. His gut jumps at the offer, deep and warm in a way that’s been happening more and more often these days. Steve lets out a breath, annoyed at himself for being so easily played, he decides to shut this down once and for all, before he gets in too deep, as if he isn’t already there. 

“I’ll pass,” he says, taking a sip of coffee without looking up, “I know where that mouth’s been,” he adds, hoping that’ll do the trick. 

James lets out a small laugh as he shakes his head. “Fine,” he says. He swallows the rest of his beer and sets the empty bottle down on the counter a little too hard, “your loss, pal.” He stands and turns to leave then stops, “and also fuck you,” he adds for good measure, and with that he’s gone. 

Steve finishes the rest of his breakfast in peace, he doesn’t see James around again after that, not that he’s looking at all. He lays a few bills down on the counter and grabs his coat as he heads out the door. On the way toward his pickup at the back of the parking lot, he sees James walking toward him, heading back to the restaurant. They meet eyes as he walks by, buttoning up his rumpled denim shirt with a cigarette hanging out from between his parted lips. He pauses to give Steve a dirty look and a middle finger to match, which, Steve figures he deserves. He swallows, turning his eyes to the gravel at his feet, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little bad, but it’s for the better. The sooner he can get James off his mind and out of his life, the sooner he can get back to his peace and quiet. 

Days spent in the quiet solitude of his home pass into weeks and he can’t get James and his offer off his mind. Working helps, when he’s welding or cutting wood for a project, he can get lost in the intricacies of it, keep his mind from wandering. He can focus on the task at hand and that’s how he likes it, but a person can’t work non-stop, even if he’d like to. Nights are the worst, laying in his empty bed his thoughts wander, he hates that someone can have a hold on him like this, especially someone he doesn’t even know. He pushes himself over the edge more than a few times with images of blue eyes, soft curls, and lips built for sin singed behind his eyelids, unable to escape the thoughts despite his best efforts. After he’s finished, he wipes the come from his hand and sits, eyes closed in frustration until he’s ready to go to sleep or get back to his day. It’s always the same, just one more thing added to his routine. 

As the scheduled day for his next trip into town approaches it only gets worse. His stomach twists with nerves when he thinks about it, killing his appetite and leaving him exhausted. When the day finally comes he spends a little longer in the shower than usual, scrubbing himself thoroughly from head to toe and making a point to empty the chamber, so to speak. He trims his beard carefully, it had been so long since he cared to, he didn’t realize just how disheveled he actually looked, it’s a wonder James even bothered talking to him at all. Everything in his closet suddenly seems unsuitable, in the very slim chance James’ll talk to him again, not that he wants him to that is, he at least wants to look presentable. He stares at his limited wardrobe, taking stock of his old clothes until he remembers the brown checkered button down he bought on discount more than six months ago hiding in the back. It’s still got the tag on it, he realizes, as he pulls it on. He rips it off and tucks the shirt tails in, it’s stiffer than his preferred shirts but it doesn’t come with the permanent grease or wood stain stains most his other clothes have. Lastly, he considers cologne but turns out he doesn’t have any and even if he did he figures it would be one step over the line, he’s already being ridiculous enough as is. There’s no point scrubbing the caked on mud off his boots, he figures, the rain pouring down outside’ll make quick work of messin’ em right back up again. 

Steve parks in his usual spot against the tree line at the back of the gravel lot and sits for a moment, berating himself for being so foolish until he works himself up enough to go inside. The little bell on the door jingles as he steps in, alerting everyone to his presence, although no one but Bill looks up from their food. He shakes the rain off his jacket and glances between the faces of regulars and strangers alike, searching for no one in particular, although he feels a twinge of disappointment when he doesn’t see him. He supposes he’s relieved too, he doesn’t know what he was expecting or what he even wants really, but it’s all for the better that he doesn’t get it, whatever it is. 

“Well, don’t you look handsome,” Gladys smiles as she fills his cup, “you got a hot date or somethin’ there, cowboy?” 

“Thanks,” Steve says, feeling his ears go hot as he takes his seat. Caught halfway between being flattered, having been so long since anyone paid him a compliment on his looks and embarrassed that she noticed the extra effort he put in. “And no,” he continues, shaking his head, “just figured I’d clean the dust off for once, is all,,” he huffs out a laugh. 

“I’m free this evening, if you’re lookin’ for one,” she smiles with a wink and Steve laughs. “Nah, you know I’m just kidding, darlin’” she says, “you want your usual or are you mixin’ that up today too?” 

“Yeah, thanks, just the usual,” Steve says. He relaxes, flipping through the classifieds as he waits, searching for cheap parts or materials he can haggle for. His breakfast arrives looking as good as ever and he digs in, feeling hungry again for the first time in days. Just when he thought he was over it, that his torment was behind him, the bell on the door jingles as it swings open, catching his attention as James walks in from the rain. Steve swallows the bite of food he was working on as James runs his hand through his wet hair, pushing it back off his forehead and Steve’s stomach flips again. 

Steve turns back to his plate in hopes he won’t notice him, although against his better judgement, Steve can’t help but still glance up at him every so often. That is, until James starts talking to a man Steve’s never seen before, sitting alone at one of the far tables, then Steve can’t look away. He rolls his eyes as James turns on the charms, watching their interaction closely. The man smiles up at him and James smiles back, they seem to be hitting it off and Steve is caught off guard by the sick jealousy bubbling up in his gut, surprising himself with how deeply possessive he feels watching them together. He wants James to himself, he wants to get him out of his system in the only way he thinks he can, but he manages to keep himself together fairly well until the man slides his hand into James’ back pocket. James pushes his hips toward the man and snakes an arm around the man’s shoulders, and Steve decides it’s time to make his move. 

Before he can talk himself out of it, he grabs his wallet, sets the money to cover his tab on the counter and empties the rest of the bills into his hand. He yanks on his still damp coat and walks over to them. James gives him a dirty look as he stops next to him and slaps the money down on the table. 

“Come on.” Steve glares down at the man’s startled face as he takes hold of James’ arm. 

“Hey, get lost.” James lets out a laugh, looking Steve over as he pulls his arm from his grip. “The offer’s expired, asshole.” 

“You want the money or not?” Steve asks, leaning closer to him as he picks up the bills and shoves them into James’ hand. 

James crumples the money tight in hesitation as he looks from the man over to Steve and nods finally, “yeah.” 

“Then c’mon,” Steve insists as James shoves the money into the pocket of his jeans and follows Steve out into the pouring rain. He leads him out to his truck then glances around for any onlookers, last thing he needs is to get busted for public indecency or somethin’. “Get in,” he tells James, satisfied that the coast is clear. James does as he’s told without question and Steve settles into the driver’s seat. 

“You know, you should really work on your people skills,” James says in that same smooth as silk voice Steve thought about so many nights as he unbluckles his belt and gets to work on his fly without waiting for James to prompt him. Ready to get this over with quick, the longer James hangs around the harder he's sure it will be. 

“I’m not paying you to talk,” Steve says as he reaches into his jeans and pulls his cock out. James takes in a breath, barely audible but Steve catches it. He knows he’s sorta big, of course he does, but he’s not huge either. He never saw anything particularly attractive about his own cock, but it’s thick and straight and curves up just a little toward his stomach and he guesses that must be worth something. The way James’ eyes go wide at the sight of him fills him with a mix of self-consciousness and pride, torn between wanting to cover himself and call the whole thing off or put on a show for him, he isn’t sure which yet. 

“What are you payin’ me for?” James asks, swallowing visibly as he looks Steve over. 

“To suck it, like you said you would. That’s what you do, right?” Steve says, resting his hands on his thighs as he spreads his legs wider. 

“That all you want?” he asks as he reaches out to run his fingertips up Steve’s length, “you paid for more-” 

“Shut up,” Steve cuts him off, closing his eyes as he rests his head back against the headrest, breathing out through his nose as James touches him gently. 

“Make me,” James says and Steve opens his eyes again. The challenge in his voice flips something inside Steve. It’s almost like he’s lookin’ to get hurt and while Steve isn’t one for that sort of thing, something about the way he says it makes Steve want to oblige. Without thinking he grabs a hold of the back of James’ neck and pulls him roughly down to his lap. The first touch of his tongue sends a shiver through Steve’s body, a familiar heat pooling low in his gut already. He drags his tongue up Steve’s length slowly almost like he’s savoring it and Steve pulls his eyebrows together in frustration, needing to get off before he thinks too hard about it and actually calls the whole thing off. 

“Swallow it,” Steve almost groans and James hums in response as he takes him into his mouth. Steve runs his fingers through his damp curls like he thought about doing so many times before and grips him tight, holding him in place as he fucks into his throat, taking all his frustration out on him. Needing desperately to get him out of his system. He comes with a growl, eyes squeezed shut and James does his best to take all that Steve gives him, almost choking on it as Steve holds him down. When he’s finished, Steve finally lets him go and he sits up. He opens the passenger door and spits the rest of Steve’s load and his excess saliva into the puddle next to the truck as Steve catches his breath. 

Steve reaches into the glovebox and pulls out a wad of napkins, he hands James a few without saying a word and gets to work wiping himself clean. Reality starts to set back in as James cleans the mess from his face, looking himself over in the sun visor mirror. Steve tucks himself back into his jeans, shame and guilt settling heavy in his stomach as he buttons his fly. They sit quietly for a moment, listening to the rain pounding against the truck as James looks him over. 

“You clean up pretty good, you know that?” he says finally, his voice rougher than before, “you do that just for me?” 

“No,” Steve says, furrowing his brow, what a stupid question. 

“You got another date or something?” he asks, “some girl who don’t know you like fellas?” 

Steve’s stomach twists at that, a knife opening an old wound. “I don’t like fellas,” he insists. 

“That’s not what your dick says,” James smiles, settling back against the door like he’d won an argument or something. 

Steve wants to dispute it, wants to argue back like he did for so long, but instead he sits for a moment considering the point and settles on, “I don’t like anybody.” 

“Now that I can believe,” James says, “so no date then?” 

“Are we done here?” Steve asks, then clears his throat, wanting desperately to retreat to his home and forget this ever happened. 

“That depends,” James shrugs, “you got me for the night as far as I’m concerned, you paid for as much.” 

As much as he wouldn’t admit it, in the quiet dark of his own bed, Steve fantasized about all the things he’d like to do to him, but now that the opportunity to make good on those thoughts is almost literally right in his lap, he can’t bring himself to take the shot. Having built this moment up so much in his head, something about it just feels wrong now. “What if I don’t want you for the night,” Steve asks. It comes out harsher than he would have liked, but he’s never been one for beating around the bush. 

“Well then you’re either very generous or very stupid and paid way to much for a blowjob,” Bucky says, sitting up again. 

“Then give me a refund,” Steve says, realizing now he gave James the rest of his cash, guess he really is stupid. He chances a glance over to him and regrets it immediately. James’ lips are deep, dark pink and swollen, his eyes pink and puffy to match, from tears Steve figures, and he feels even worse about using him like that then he already did. 

“That ain’t how this works, sweetheart,” James laughs, “this your first time paying for it?” Steve doesn’t respond, doesn’t exactly know how, then James leans a little further toward him. “I’m flattered, even if you are a Grade A asshole,” he says as he rests his hand on Steve’s, “but you got a real nice cock and you’re clean so you already made my job easier that most guys.” 

Steve pulls his hand out from under James’ and rests it on the steering wheel, not ready for the intimacy of the touch despite what just occurred between them. 

“It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it?” James asks, his voice almost sympathetic as his hand remains on Steve’s thigh. Steve would usually be annoyed by the tone but something about James invites him to open up, even if it’s just a little. 

“Is it that obvious?” Steve asks, watching the trails of water running down the fogged up windshield. 

“Just a lucky guess, I guess,” James says with a smile that puts Steve more at ease. To say it’s been awhile since Steve’s been with another person would be a tremendous understatement. In fact, his ex-wife would have been the last if not for the rushed, drunken hand job from a random man in a bar bathroom the night divorce went through, and the time he went down on his old friend from high school after running into her again at department store up in Missoula while her kids were at swim practice. That was just about eight years ago now. 

“I don’t get out much,” Steve admits. 

“You don’t say,” James laughs and Steve’s lips curl into the barest hint of a smile. 

“Guess that’s obvious, huh?” Steve asks, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. 

“Just a little,” James smiles again, putting Steve at ease. 

They’re quiet for another moment before Steve speaks again, “sorry about what I said last time.” He gestures with his hand toward the restaurant. “It was out of line,” he swallows. 

“Don’t worry about it,” James says, “it ain’t the worst I’ve heard,” he pauses for a moment, “but I appreciate the apology anyway.” 

“I can be a real fuckin’ dick,” Steve nods. Over the years he developed a sort of defense mechanism to keep people away, not wanting to get close to anyone again. Guess it worked too well, he thinks, not realizing just how lonely he was until now. 

“We all have our moments,” James assures him. “What’s your name, anyway?” It’s a simple question but the fact that James would even care to ask fills Steve with some kind of warm and fuzzy feeling he wasn’t used to. 

“Steve,” he answers, “James, right?” 

“Yeah,” James says, “but call me Bucky.” 

“What the hell kind of a name is Bucky?” Steve asks, screwing up his features as he looks over to Bucky and then shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says, looking down again, realizing how that came out. 

“It’s what my mom used to call me,” Bucky explains, “it’s short for my middle name on account of being named James after my dad, she liked it better than Junior,” he shrugs, “it just sorta stuck.” 

“You got a place to stay tonight, Bucky?” Steve asks, squinting as he peers between the trails of water on the windshield. Unsure where he’s going with the question, but he figures it’s worth taking the chance either way, what could it hurt. 

“I got a room here,” Bucky says, “it’s not much but they let me stick around as long as I’m payin’.” They’re quiet for a moment until Bucky clears his throat, “I got a couple beers left in the fridge, if you want to come in and get dried off.” Steve looks out the window, watching the rain gather into huge puddles throughout the parking lot. 

“Probably won’t make it home anyway,” Steve says, “what with all the rain, the road’s probably washed out,” he tries to convince himself, knowing full well he could make it home if he really wanted to, only, the thing is, he doesn’t think he does. 

“Better to be safe, right?” Bucky asks. 

Steve nods, “yeah, you’re right.” 

“Follow me,” Bucky says with a smile and Steve does as he’s told, following Bucky out into the rain and across the parking lot toward the motel section. He leads Steve to his room and pulls his key out of his pocket. Steve waits, his stomach twisting with nerves as he glances around, wondering if anyone noticed them together, if anyone _knows_. Not that it matters much, after his display in the restaurant. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Sorry about the mess,” Bucky says, flipping the light on as they step in from the rain. He shuts the door behind them and locks it. “Discounted rates,” he shrugs, “no housekeeping.” Steve stands awkwardly by the door, watching as James- or, Bucky, he corrects himself, picks up the few pieces of clothes on the bed that he calls a mess. He fusses around the small room and Steve’s not sure what to do, having never been in this sort of situation before. After trying a few different positions that all feel forced, he shoves his fists into his damp pockets as he follows him around with his eyes. There’s no reason for Bucky’s fussing to be as endearing as it is, and yet there would be a smile on his face if he wasn’t so damn nervous. 

“Have a seat,” Bucky gestures toward the unmade bed, “there’s beer in the fridge,” he adds, “help yourself. I’m going to jump in the shower and get cleaned up.” Steve nods as Bucky disappears through the open bathroom door then returns with a towel. “Here,” he says, handing it to Steve, “get dried off.”

“Thanks,” Steve says quietly, taking it from him. Bucky returns to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind him. Unsure whether that’s an invitation or just out of habit, Steve tries not to think about it either way. From where he’s standing he catches a glimpse of Bucky reflected in the mirror as he strips out of his wet clothes and immediately looks away. Sure he wants to watch, wants to see just what Bucky looks like under all those layers, he’s human after all and who could blame him? But he ain’t about to watch someone who don’t know they’re bein’ watched like some sort of fuckin’ creep. 

He glances at the bed again, off-white, wrinkled sheets tossed to one side, and wonders how many men Bucky’s fucked in that bed. How many strangers he’s brought back to this room to have their way with him, and how many of them paid him for it. Not sure what dating’s like for someone like Bucky, but he figures if anyone could find someone to be with, it’s him. He’s all charm and good looks, with an effortless air about him that would draw anyone in. Even someone like Steve, who despite his best efforts wasn’t immune, what chance does anyone else have. 

Studying the dips and angles of the wrinkles in the sheets, he wonders if Bucky would let him fuck him there, if he asked. If Bucky would take him up on it immediately or make him work for it. He wonders if Bucky would let him in easy and moan his name real pretty like while he takes him from behind. Pushing the thoughts from his head, he grabs a beer out of the fridge and takes a seat on the foot of the bed, adjusting himself uncomfortably in his damp jeans. The mattress is harder than he likes and there’s not much in the way of springs, but the frame squeaks as he sits down in a way that makes it hard to keep himself from thinking about what Bucky does on it. 

As he waits, he runs the towel through his wet hair and fixes it the best he can with his fingers, pushing it back off his face and tucking it behind his ears. Not that it matters much, but something about Bucky makes him want to put in the effort. After a second, he pulls off his soaked jacket and lays it over the chair by the small table against the wall. The loss of that single layer already making him feel exposed. 

He studies the room as he sits, listening to the shower run. There’s water stains on the ceiling and some kind of other stains on the carpet under his feet. On the nightstand there’s a half full ashtray next to a pack of Marlboros and a Zippo lighter. Beside that there’s some spacey looking book by a guy named Carl something and another book Steve can’t see the title of. Steve’s not much of a reader himself, and if he does pick up a book, it’s usually a practical one on gardening or local plants or something. The sort of book that makes his life easier, although he supposes that’s what the other kind do as well, letting someone have some kind of an escape if they need it. Steve’s never had much use for that sort of thing, but seein’ as how his entire life these last few years has been his own sort of escape maybe he can relate. 

There’s a duffel bag full of clothes on the floor by the TV stand, next to a backpack and a few grocery bags full of stuff Steve can’t quite make out, he figures it’s food but who knows. He takes a sip of his beer, and lays the damp towel over his coat. It feels like he’s been sitting alone for ages, when the shower finally shuts off and Steve sits up straight, his nerves kicking up in his stomach again for some unknown reason. It sure ain’t the casual sex, Steve’s not the kind to get shy about that sort of thing, not that it’s on the table anymore anyway. Yet here he is, sitting with his hands in his lap, his stomach twisting just like his first time. Back when he was sixteen and skinny as a rail, trying to do his best for his first girlfriend but it was a mess, he didn’t last more than a minute or two if he was generous. She was sweet about it anyway though and still married him despite his performance. Turns out she shoulda saved herself the trouble. 

Bucky walks into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist, secured by his hand and Steve swallows. He offers Steve a smile that makes him squirm, soft and sweet but with a hint of something else just below the surface, like he knows somethin’ Steve doesn’t. But Steve doesn’t have much time to think it over as his eyes drift lower. Bucky’s body, what Steve can see of it at least, is slim but toned, the kind of body he could stare at for hours, given the opportunity. He could study every dip and curve of muscle, every sharp angle, spend all day counting each freckle endlessly. Miles of warm, smooth skin with a splash of dark hair on his chest and a trail heading south that makes Steve’s mouth water. There’s a faded old Army tattoo on his left bicep which piques Steve’s curiosity. Bucky doesn’t seem the type and he makes a note to ask him about it later. 

“I’ve got an extra pair of sweats in here,” Bucky says as he digs through his duffel bag, “if you want to put on some dry clothes.” 

“That’s alright-” Steve clears his throat as Bucky stands and holds them out to him. 

“I just had your dick down my throat, I think we can share clothes,” Bucky says with a smile as Steve takes them from him. The way he says it, so casually like it’s nothing, like Steve hasn’t been having a crisis of conscience over it since he finished, catches Steve off guard. 

“Thanks,” he says, deeply uncomfortable but surprised by the kindness of the gesture. 

“Don’t mention it,” Bucky says as he grabs a pair of boxers out of his bag. Without warning, he drops the towel and Steve stares down at the worn carpet between his muddy boots as Bucky bends over to pull them up his legs. Bucky lets out a laugh as he stands, looking Steve over. 

“You know you can look all you like,” he says as he steps into Steve’s space. He runs his fingers down his stomach, grazing over the trail of hair there and against his better judgement, Steve chances a glance up in time to see Bucky’s fingers tease just below his waistband. He wants badly for Bucky to keep going, to slide his hand the rest of the way in and touch himself while he watches. But he doesn’t, instead he reaches down and takes hold of Steve’s hand, bringing him out of his thoughts, “I’m still on the clock, sugar.” 

Steve pulls his hand back from Bucky’s grip and moves to stand up, reminded again that Bucky’s doing all this for one reason and one reason only, because Steve paid him to, not because he wants to. “I should go.” 

“Hey,” Bucky stops him with a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry, man, I just thought, with the way you were lookin’ at me-” 

“No, it’s fine, I just-” Steve shakes his head, “I don’t know what I’m doing here, I should just go.” 

“Alright,” Bucky nods, taking a step back out of Steve’s space, “at least wait until the rain stops, so you can get dried off and finish that beer.” Against his better judgement, Steve doesn’t stand, he doesn’t leave. Bucky’s offer sounds reasonable enough, what could it hurt anyway? 

“Okay,” Steve nods, taking another sip as Bucky pulls on a t-shirt a few sizes too big for him, it’s got the name of some bar Steve’s never heard of on it and Steve wonders if it once belonged to an old boyfriend he still thinks of fondly. It hangs off him as he takes a seat next to Steve on the bed, the stretched collar almost exposing one of his shoulders. 

“I just,” Bucky pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, “it gets kind of lonely.” He lets out a small laugh, “not many johns want to hang out after,” he shrugs, “but I guess there’s not many I’d want to see more of anyway.” 

Steve relaxes at that. Loneliness is something he can relate to on a deep personal level, turns out. In fact if he were a betting man, he’d put his money on that’s the very reason he’s currently sitting on a truck stop hooker’s bed in a shitty motel room lookin’ for some kind of companionship. The defeated look on Bucky’s face breaks something in Steve, all he wants to do is make him smile. “That’s a shame,” he says against the mouth of his beer, “since you’re decent company.” 

“Wow,” Bucky laughs, and Steve feels a swell of pride, “you get your dick sucked once and you’re practically Prince Fucking Charming, huh?” He reaches over to the mini fridge and grabs himself a beer and the bottle opener off the top of it. 

“You should see me after a fuck,” Steve laughs then takes another sip. He feels his face go hot and regrets the statement immediately. 

“I’d like that,” Bucky says, eyeing him over again. Steve swallows hard, not sure what to say. He wants to bolt, to get himself back to the comfort of his own home where he can be at peace, away from the way Bucky’s lookin’ at him, hungry like. It makes Steve feel vulnerable in a way he’s not accustomed to. There’s a heaviness between them for a moment, it gives him an uneasy feeling in his gut as he struggles for something, anything to say. “Guess you’ll have to call me next time you get lucky, huh?” Bucky adds and Steve lets out a breath. Grateful for the change of pace, he relaxes a little. 

He nods and lets out a small laugh, considering the past few years, “might be a while.” 

“I’m patient.” They both take long drags off their beers as rain pounds against the roof of the quiet room. “Go get changed,” Bucky says finally, breaking the silence between them, “you’re going to soak my mattress.” 

Steve nods and downs the rest of his beer, he tosses the empty bottle into the trash by the door as he gets up. Once inside the bathroom, he shuts the door behind himself and stands for a moment. It takes him a little bit to work up to pulling off his wet shirt, but once he does, he hangs it over the shower curtain rod next to Bucky’s clothes then kicks off his boots. As he takes off his jeans, the wet denim sticks to his skin in an awful way, making him grimace as he slides them down his legs. He pauses, his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his boxers and swallows. Debating whether or not to strip away the last barrier between his junk and Bucky’s sweatpants, even if they are damp, he figures they still make it seem less intimate in some way. Ultimately, he decides damp underwear make the dry sweatpants pointless and commits, slipping them down his legs and off. He stands, naked in Bucky’s bathroom for a moment, looking down at himself and sighs, really wishing Bucky would have given him a shirt as well. With that, he pulls the borrowed sweatpants up his legs, shivering as the soft material bushes against his damp skin, not realizing until now how cold he is. 

The sweatpants are more snug than he would have liked, seeing as Bucky is quite a bit thinner than him. Worse than that though, they don’t leave much to the imagination as far a Steve’s half hard dick is concerned. It’s pushing against the material in an obvious way, leaving little doubt Bucky won’t notice. He runs his hands under the tap for a moment before splashing the water onto his face, then runs his hands through his damp hair, trying to make it look somewhat presentable. Looking himself over in the mirror, he lets out a deep sigh and adjusts himself, regretting how good the soft fabric feels against him with the added pressure of his hand. For a moment, he briefly considers if he could get away with rubbing a quick one out right here before Bucky realizes what he’s doing, if only to calm his nerves and get his dick back in check. He quickly shakes the thought from his head, figurin’ that's crossing a line he’s not quite willing to cross. 

Of all the places he thought he’d end up today, this wasn’t even remotely on the list.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve can still hear the rain coming down on the motel roof as he stands, staring at himself in the mirror of Bucky’s bathroom, trying to work himself up to walking back out and facing him again. As much as he tries not to, he just ends up wondering what the hell he’s doing here. Even more pressing is the question of what he’s looking for, what he’s really looking to get out of this stunt, and to that question, Steve has no answer. He takes a swig off the bottle of blue mouthwash sitting next to the sink, just in case, and spits it into the sink. With one last hard exhale, he nods and opens the door. When he comes out of the bathroom, Bucky is laying back against his pillows on his bed, the sheets pulled down in an invitation Steve aches to accept. Torn between wanting to crawl into bed beside him and taking a seat in one of the chairs by the table instead.

“Wow,” Bucky says softly, looking him over and Steve feels himself go hot. He can’t decide whether to cross his arms over his bare chest of fold his hands in front of his dick. Both equally on display. 

“What?” Steve asks, settling on crossing his arms. No one but his doctor’s seen this much of his body in years, and even under scrutinizing eyes during his last exam he didn’t feel nearly this exposed. He’s nowhere near as fit as he used to be, still strong from working but soft around the edges now. The defined abs of his early twenties long gone, replaced instead by the beginnings of what would surely become a gut if he kept his beer habit up, covering the muscles below. 

“Nothing,” Bucky smiles up at him and Steve tenses, “I just didn’t know you were hiding that body under all those layers.” 

“You can cut the act,” Steve says, taking a seat on the edge of the empty side of the bed, “I’m not here because I’m lookin’ to get something out of you.” 

Bucky sits up and crosses his legs. “What are you here for, then?” he asks, and Steve wasn’t ready for such a blunt question, especially one he doesn’t have a real answer for. What’s he supposed to say? That he’d been thinking about him for months, building up an image of them together without even knowin’ him? That he had him suck his dick in hopes he could get him out of his system, because he got jealous seein’ him with another man, but it only made it worse? Now that he can actually fuck him he can’t bring myself to ask him for it? Every truth he runs through just seems far too personal and doesn’t quite come close to covering the extent of his feelings, whatever they are. 

He swallows and drops his head into his hands. “I don’t know,” he groans finally and it’s not exactly a lie, he just doesn’t know what else to say. After another moment, he settles on the best explanation he’s got. “You just seem like a nice guy,” he admits, his words muffled by his hands, “and I don’t have many people to talk to either.” 

“I can be your friend, Steve,” Bucky says softly. The genuine tone of his voice hits Steve right in the gut, he sounds like he really means it and Steve realizes that’s exactly what he couldn’t find the words for. He’s lookin’ for a friend, simple as that. 

Bucky pauses for a moment before adding, “and it wasn’t part of the act anyway, don’t worry. I just think you’re hot.” 

“Thanks,” Steve huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, “I guess.” The compliment doesn’t go unappreciated, of course, he just doesn’t know how to respond is all. They’re both quiet for a moment while Steve tires to think of something to say when he remembers the tattoo and figures now’s a good a time as any to bring it up. “Where’d you serve?” he asks, nodding toward Bucky’s arm. 

Bucky looks at him, eyebrows pulled together in confusion for a moment then his face relaxes as he looks down. “Oh this?” he asks, as if Steve could have meant anything else. He covers the tattoo with his hand. “I didn’t,” he shrugs, “I never made it out of basic. Me and a couple other guys got drunk and decided to get matching tattoos, thought they’d be a good bonding experience before we even got on the bus.” 

“What happened?” Steve asks. 

“Got discharged,” Bucky nods slowly, “less than honorable,” he adds then pauses, looking down at the sheet between them. “I got caught with my sergeant’s dick in my ass in a supply closet, and seeing as I wasn’t as valuable to them as he was, I got the boot and he’s probably still serving,” he takes a breath then adds, “probably still fucking fresh new recruits too.” 

“Shit,” Steve breathes out, unsure what else to say. 

“They made it out like it was my idea in the first place, like I was the one taking advantage of him. I mean,” Bucky pauses and sighs. Steve holds his breath, his mind racing as Bucky confides in him. “Not that I wasn’t willing,” he adds, easing Steve’s concerns, “that’s not what I mean,” he looks up at Steve and swallows, “but I was barely eighteen, still a kid, you know?” he looks back down, “he was my superior, someone in a position of power like that he should know better. He should have never let it get that far. There was nothing I could do, they wouldn’t listen.” 

Steve hesitates for a moment, unsure what to say. He settles on offering his hand for Bucky to take if he wants, which to Steve’s surprise, he does. Bucky looks up at him with a soft smile that doesn’t reach his sad eyes as Steve closes his fingers around his hand. 

“I couldn’t go home after that,” Bucky continues, “they were so proud. I was supposed to serve just like my dad and his dad before him and all that. I couldn’t face their disappointment,” he pauses, glancing back down at the bed as Steve rubs his thumb against the back of Bucky’s hand. “And being gay on top of that?” Bucky continues as he meets Steve’s eyes again, “it’s just too much.” He pauses again and sniffs, “anyway, that’s my tragic backstory,” he laughs softly, “want to talk about literally anything else? He asks as he lets go of Steve’s hand to wipe his nose on his sleeve. 

“My ex-wife left me because she thought I was gay and lying to her,” Steve admits, feeling like he should share something personal in return, “because I couldn’t fuck her anymore.” He never told anyone that before, not even his mom, the closest person he had after the divorce. But Bucky was the kind of person who invited people to open up to them, easy and comfortable, no matter how hard Steve was fighting it. He wanted to share himself with him, and he wanted Bucky to share himself in return. 

“Are you?” Bucky asks, a hint of hopefulness in his voice, “gay, I mean.” 

“No,” Steve shakes his head and Bucky nods, looking back down at the sheets, his shoulders falling in defeat. “It just depends on the person, I suppose,” Steve adds, not sure how to explain it. It ain’t that he doesn’t feel attracted to men, or women for that matter, he does, it’s just that it’s the person themselves that he’s drawn to, and around these parts, it’s been real slim pickings. As the years passed he just sorta felt less and less inclined to need a partner, getting by just fine on his own, or so he thought. 

“That’s a good way to live,” Bucky says, “although the way you’re going about it is a little unusual.” He lets out a laugh that makes Steve smile. 

“You’re one to talk,” he says and Bucky shrugs, nodding in agreement. 

“Guess you got me there.” They fall quiet again as Bucky picks at the loose threads at the edges of his sheet. “Most johns,” he says, catching Steve’s attention, “are first timers who want to take me for a hard ride and go back home to their wives after, makes ‘em feel like they’re getting away with something deviant, I guess, like I’m their very own dirty little secret.” 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about being my dirty little secret, I got no one to hide it from anyway,” Steve says, offering him a reassuring smile. 

“I saw the way you were looking around outside, you didn’t want anyone to see us together,” Bucky says, “which is fine, I mean, it comes with the territory, I’m not offended.” 

“That ain’t on account of you,” Steve says, looking down at his lap, “I just don’t like folks knowin’ my business is all.” 

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Bucky says with a smile, “but it’s all the same anyway, I don’t want anybody knowing I’m kicking around with you anyhow.” 

Steve laughs, genuinely laughs at that. “That so?” he asks, looking back up at Bucky, smiling back at him and is struck by the deep need to kiss him. He wants to climb across the bed and take Bucky’s face in hands, to feel those lips against his own, to taste him. His smile fades from his face as he turns away and runs a hand through his hair. 

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks, his voice soft with concern. 

Steve considers lying, saying it’s nothing and leaving it at that. It would certainly be easier, that’s for sure but what’s the point in hiding the truth from him. 

“I want to kiss you,” Steve confesses, the words dragging out of him like barbed wire, tearing him open from the inside, raw and exposed. 

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky says, his voice so soft it makes Steve sick, “I don’t kiss johns.” 

Steve swallows hard, he doesn’t know what else he expected. 

“Even ones I like,” Bucky adds and Steve can’t look at him. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “yeah,” he repeats, scrubbing his knuckles against his beard, “no, I get it.” 

“We can do something else,” Bucky offers, leaning forward to lay a hand high on Steve’s thigh. The contact sends a wave of heat through Steve’s body. 

“No,” Steve says, shaking his head, “it’s fine. It’s stupid anyway.” 

“You’re lonely, Steve,” Bucky says, “it’s okay.” He rubs his thumb gently against the fabric covering Steve’s skin and squeezes his hand. “You’re lookin’ to connect with another person on an intimate level, even if you don’t think you are, believe me,” Bucky insists, “I get it. But you only want to kiss me because this is the longest conversation you’ve had with someone in way too long.” 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “that must be it.” He figures Bucky’s probably right, he does this for a living after all, but the feelings he has sure feel real and it makes him sick to think it’s all a lie. 

“You just gotta get out there more,” Bucky continues, “you’ll find someone who’s right for you.” 

“Yeah,” Steve nods again. He feels stupid but at least Bucky’s letting him down easy. Still, he can’t help but wonder what kind of a loser gets the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech from someone paid to be in their company. It’s pathetic as hell is what it is, but he’s still grateful for the company anyway. Bucky didn’t have to give him the time of day, yet he opened his home to him and that sort of thing means a lot to him. 

“Thanks,” Steve says, “you’ve been a better friend to me then you had to be, you’re a good guy, Buck. I’m just all sorts of a mess, I guess.” 

“We all are,” Bucky says, “besides, everyone can use a friend and you’re no different.” 

“You’re right,” Steve nods, looking back up at him finally, “I hope I can return the favor.” 

“You’re off to a good start,” Bucky says, withdrawing his hand from Steve’s thigh and Steve misses the contact with his whole being. They’re quiet for a moment. 

“Do you have an extra shirt I can put on?” Steve asks, suddenly feeling far too exposed for his own liking. 

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky says, “there’s a clean white one in my bag, it should fit you fine.” 

Steve searches through Bucky’s bag, pushing clothes around until he finds a plastic bag at the bottom full of lube and condoms of various brands and sizes. The thought of strange men using Bucky and tossing him aside twists inside him, bubbling into anger at them but more so at himself for even considering doing the same damn thing. He lets out a breath and goes back to searching until he finds the shirt Bucky must have meant, he smells it to check for freshness out of habit before he can stop himself, hoping Bucky doesn’t notice. It smells mostly of laundry soap but there’s an underlying scent of Bucky from the rest of the clothes that Steve catches. 

“Thanks,” he says as he stands. He pulls the shirt on and sits back on the edge of the bed. 

“Sorry, it’s kind of cold in here,” Bucky says, “the heat only works when it wants to.” 

“It’s alright,” Steve says, already feeling a little warmer with the shirt on. 

“But you can use the blanket if you want,” Bucky reaches over and pulls the covers up the bed toward them. Although getting cozy under the warmth of Bucky’s blankets sounds appealing as all get out, he isn’t ready to take it that far just yet, even without his feelings hanging over him. 

“I’m alright,” Steve says, letting out a small laugh, “really.” 

“Okay,” Bucky smiles back. 

“Doesn’t sound like the rain’s gonna stop any time soon,” Steve says, looking up at the water stains on the ceiling. 

“You can stay as long as you want to,” Bucky says, “you don’t have to rush out of here on my account, I kinda like havin’ you around.” That brings a smile to Steve’s face, filling him with a warm feeling as he looks down at his lap. 

“Alright,” Steve nods, turning back to Bucky, “I might have to take you up on that offer.” 

“Are you hungry at all? I can order pizza if you want,” Bucky offers. 

“I’d like that,” Steve says, giving Bucky a soft smile, “but it’s on me, as payment for letting me stick around.” Grateful he remembered to bring his emergency credit card to town with him just in case. 

“I still owe you,” Bucky smiles back, “we’ll call it even.” 

“Deal.” Steve lays back against the headboard as Bucky reaches for the phone on the nightstand and dials the number. He closes his eyes, listening to Bucky order and realizes for only being early afternoon, he could easily fall asleep right here. Finally feeling at some sort of ease in Bucky’s presence for the first time since he saw him. With the pressure of the expectation of sex off the table and the burden of his feelings numbed by Bucky’s own lack of interest in him as anything more than a friend, he breathes easy. Bucky was right though, a friend is what he needs more than anything anyway. 

“What do you like on it?” Bucky asks quietly, covering the receiver with his hand. 

“Whatever you want,” Steve says without opening his eyes. 

“One medium supreme and one medium pepperoni,” Bucky says, he gives them the address and room number then hangs up. “Should be here in about a half an hour.” 

“Sounds good,” Steve nods. 

They lay in comfortable silence together in Bucky’s bed until he switches on the TV. Steve welcomes the noise as a distraction, grateful for the ease it puts him at, not having to try and fill the silence with conversation. Steve listens to trash day time talk shows about paternity tests with his eyes closed, comforted by Bucky's presence next to him, almost close enough to feel the warmth of his skin against his own. He wants to move, to close the gap between them, skin to skin, longing for the contact of another person, but stays on his side of the bed instead. 

There’s a knock at the door and Steve figures maybe he fell asleep. He opens his eyes as Bucky climbs off the bed, and yawns as he pays the delivery man. Bucky grabs two more beers out of the fridge and brings it all back to the bed with him. Dropping the pizza boxes between them on the sheets, he hands one of the beers to Steve and Steve nods in thanks. 

Steve didn’t mean to spend the night here with Bucky, he didn’t even mean to stay for dinner and he certainly didn’t mean to end up sharing a bed with him. Yet, as Bucky turns out the light something about it feels right. Steve rolls over, turning his back to Bucky as he nestles his head into the lumpy pillow to get comfortable. The bed dips as Bucky scoots closer, settling behind him, his body pressed along Steve’s. He lays an arm over Steve’s torso and tucks his hand half under his stomach, holding him close. The contact soothes something inside Steve, makes him feel whole somehow. He hadn’t been touched like this in, well, years and Steve didn’t realize how much he missed it. 

“Is this okay?” Bucky asks softly, his mouth close to Steve’s ear, sending a shiver through Steve’s body. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “this is fine.” 

“Good night,” Bucky whispers, nestling his cheek against Steve’s shoulder. 

“Good night,” Steve repeats. He lets out a deep content sigh and waits for sleep to take him. He’s not sure how much time passed or if he even fell asleep at all but he realizes the rain stopped. He could leave now, no longer having an excuse to say, but leaving the comfortable warmth of Bucky’s bed with Bucky pressed against him is the last thing he wants to do. 

Bucky must have sensed his restless thoughts because he nestles in closer and slides his hand up under Steve’s- well, his own t-shirt, resting his palm flat against Steve’s stomach. He rubs his fingers gently through the trail of hair there a few times before settling back into stillness. Steve’s torn between wanting Bucky to go further and wanting to enjoy this for what it is. Still, he can’t help thinking about Bucky’s hand dipping into the waistband of his borrowed sweats, how good it would feel to have Bucky’s soft, warm hand around him, stroking him gently to completion as he lays comfortably wrapped in his arms. Steve rests his hand over Bucky’s, moving his thumb against the back of his hand and Bucky hums softly against Steve’s shoulder. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asks sleepily, moving his fingers softly against Steve’s skin again. 

“Just thinking,” Steve whispers. 

“About what?” 

“Rain’s stopped.” 

“Oh,” Bucky says, his lips moving against Steve’s shoulder as he speaks, “guess it has.” 

The next morning comes quickly, Steve wakes before sunrise like usual. He climbs out of bed, careful not to wake Bucky as he heads to the bathroom. His clothes are dry by now and he changes quietly in the dark. He pulls on his boots and just before he leaves, he scribbles down a note on the notepad sitting on the table that reads, _if you ever need someone to talk to-_ and adds his phone number at the bottom. 

Three long weeks pass without a word, not that he’s counting. He tries not to let himself think too much about it, maybe it’s for the best after all, even if he is a little disappointed. Some small part of him thought maybe there was something there, that he wasn’t making it all up and maybe Bucky actually felt something for him more than just another john to preform for. That maybe they had a real connection as friends, if not maybe more. Steve reminds him though that it’s Bucky’s job to make him feel that way and he’s damn good at it too. Still, it doesn’t take long for the loneliness to creep back into Steve’s life, his days seem a little too quiet, his bed a little too empty. If it wasn’t for his cat, he thinks maybe it would all just be too much for him now. Maybe Bucky was right, he does need to get out there more. 

Still, he hopes wherever Bucky is that he’s okay, that he’s happy and safe.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve falls back into his old, usual routine easily. Days spent in quiet solitude working out in his shop or tending to his garden under the late April sun, nights spent in his empty bed. It gets easier with time, adjusting to his old life again. The crushing loneliness of the first week or so eventually dulls back into an afterthought in the weeks that follow. It becomes something he only thinks about after a long day, when he considers Bucky’s advice of getting out there more, alone in the dark of his room. Maybe if he could bring himself to follow through, he could actually meet someone, maybe even try out bein’ married again if the right person he found happened to be a woman. As rough as his last attempt was, deep down he misses the constant companionship of havin’ a partner there by his side, even if they were both deeply unhappy by the end of it. He doesn’t need anyone, that’s for sure, but he’s realizing now that maybe he sort of wants someone, here and there. His thoughts always drift back to one person though, blue eyes and dark hair, feeling a twinge of loss in his chest when he wonders what ever happened to Bucky.

Throughout his days, he harvests what he needs for each day’s meals and stores the rest, canning what he can to hold him over for the cold winter months to come. Needing to keep his food costs down to make sure he’s got enough for everything else. Tonight’s dinner, he decides, will include the bag of bitterroot he harvested over the afternoon from the little plants littering his property, bright beautiful flowers in shades of pinks and purples. Boiled and mashed into a nutritious paste as a side dish to go with one of the grouse he grabbed out his freezer the night before. It should be thawed by now and he plans on roasting it up and pairing it with some wildberries he froze last summer, should make for a pretty decent meal if he does say so. 

Standing at his kitchen sink, he rinses the thawing berries. Lost in his thoughts as he carefully removes the remaining stems and leaves he missed before, staticy classic country playing over the radio for background noise. It’s quiet out here after all, none of the ambient city noises of his home town, and that’s the way he likes it, of course, but a little somethin’ to listen to never hurts. His cat sits on her perch on top of the refrigerator, watching as he works. She keeps to herself mostly, coming around when she’s hungry or needs a little affection here and there. They’re a good match like that, he gives her a place to live, she gives him some kind of company to keep him sane. Livin’ like this takes its toll, but as far as Steve’s concerned, it’s better than the alternative. 

Something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye through the window though, he almost misses it, figuring it’s nothing, it’s never anything. But his gut tells him to look up and he obliges, glancing out through the glass to see what he figures is gonna be a bird or maybe a deer, they happen into his yard on occasion. Instead he’s greeted with a figure emerging through the trees at the end of his long, dirt driveway. He stares for a moment, squinting to try to make out the person’s identity, there ain’t any good reason for someone to be visiting him all the way up here. His first thought is maybe it’s someone lookin’ for trouble, it’s not like he’s got much to steal anyway but desperate people do desperate things. It isn’t until the figure makes their way closer that he drops the berries into the colander sitting in the sink and rushes for the front door. 

Swinging the screen door open he steps out into the shade of his front porch his heart pounding in his chest as Bucky makes his way up the driveway toward him. “Hey!” Steve calls out, jogging out into the sun of his yard to meet him. “I never thought I’d see you again,” he says, catching his breath as he wipes his hands on his jeans, unable to stop his smile. 

“I wanted to call but I lost your number,” Bucky smiles back as he readjusts the weight of the duffel bag over his shoulder. “Gladys knew about where you lived though, figured I’d take a chance on stopping by on my way out of town.” 

“Hitting the road, huh?” Steve asks, disappointment settling heavy in his stomach, souring the moment. He convinced himself Bucky was long gone already, nothing but a cherished memory to look back on fondly. Part of him knows he should be grateful for this surprise visit, be happy to see him again and leave it at that, but he can’t help the feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

“Like a rolling stone,” Bucky shrugs with a smile, “can’t stick around in one place too long, business dries up.” 

It makes sense, Steve decides. From what Bucky’s told him, most of the men he meets aren’t much for repeat business and Steve’s not sure what the percentage is on truckers lookin’ for a man’s company, but he figures it can’t be that many anyway. Still, the disappointment he feels at the news tightens his chest. “Well,” Steve lets out a breath, nodding as he looks down at their feet, “I have to say I’m sorry to hear that,” he admits, looking back up at him. 

Bucky nods, matching Steve’s movements as he looks down at the ground. “I was wondering,” he starts, “if I could crash here for the night, I can hitch a ride back into town in the morning.” He digs the toe of his boot into the dirt, “if that’s alright with you.” 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, pulling his eyebrows together, “yeah of course. I owe you one anyway.” He claps his hand onto Bucky’s shoulder and squeezes, drawing another smile out of Bucky, warm and sweet. “C’mon.” Steve gestures for him to follow him toward the house. 

Come to think of it, he’s never actually had a house guest before. He starts running through all the things he’ll need, he doesn’t even have any extra pillows for him to use, hopefully one of his mom’s old throw pillows he never got around to getting rid of with work fine. If he woulda known he would have cleaned up before hand, not that his house a mess but he wants to make a good impression is all. He actually starts getting nervous Bucky’ll regret his decision to come up here. 

“What brings you up to these parts?” Steve asks, his curiosity getting the better of him as they climb the steps of his front porch. Figurin’ he knows the answer, Bucky did say he didn’t have many friends either. 

“Maybe I ran out of money to pay for my room,” Bucky shrugs, “maybe I was just lookin’ for an excuse to see you again.” He looks over to Steve with a smile that makes Steve’s chest swell with, well, with something, Steve’s not quite sure what but it sure feels good. 

“I’ll never know, huh?” Steve asks, smiling back. 

“Guess not.” Bucky looks him over with a satisfied smirk on his lips. His eyes drag down Steve’s body and back up again in one quick motion, it’s subtle but boy, Steve sure notices. The remnants of want Steve buried deep down sparking back to life. 

“Come on inside,” Steve says, letting out a breath as he holds the door open, beckoning Bucky in, “it’s not much, but it’s home.” 

Bucky looks around as he steps into the living room, taking in the simple furniture and wood paneled walls decorated sparsely with a few old family photos and a couple pieces of art. “I like it,” he says, nodding, his eyes falling back on Steve with a smile, “it’s cozy.” 

“Make yourself at home,” Steve insists, picking up a few scattered things off the coffee table and brushing the few stray cat hairs there onto the rug. “Bathroom’s down the hall there on your left, I’ve got a shower if you need it, although the water pressure ain’t great. There’s beer in the fridge, whiskey in the cupboard above the sink if you want something stronger-” 

“Thanks,” Bucky laughs, stopping him with a hand on his arm, “really, I appreciate this.” He drops his bags down on the floor by the couch and takes a seat, bouncing slightly as he tests it out. 

“No problem at all,” Steve smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stands in front of the mantle, looking around the room as Bucky takes it in. “Do you want a beer?” he asks, withdrawing one of his hands to gesture toward the kitchen. 

“Sure,” Bucky says with a smile, “I’d love one.” 

Steve grabs two from the fridge and throws the caps into the sink. Holding them in one hand, he hefts his cat off the fridge, tucking her under his arm as he walks back into the living room to let her outside. 

“Who’s that?” Bucky asks as Steve hands him one of the beers. 

“This little lady?” Steve asks, looking down at her, “this is Chunk.” 

“Chunk?” Bucky laughs, “kind of funny name for a cat.” 

“Well,” Steve smiles, “her name used to be Slim but I didn’t think it fit anymore.” He scratches her round tummy with the hand underneath her, earning a grumpy grumble. “She’s been hanging around just about,” he pauses to think, “shit, six years now. She showed up one morning on my porch when I was feelin’ real down. Just a tiny little thing, and starving. I figure some asshole probably dumped her litter out here and she was the only one that survived.” 

“Damn,” Bucky says, “well, I’m glad she found you.” 

“I am too,” Steve smiles down at Chunk, “she’s been a real pal.” 

“I always wanted a cat,” Bucky says, taking a sip of his beer, “my folks never let me have one.” 

“Well, you can try to pet her if you want,” Steve says, walking her over, “but she’s not the friendliest.” He sets her down next to Bucky. He reaches over to let her smell his hand she jumps down off the couch and trots toward Steve’s bedroom, completely uninterested. 

“She’ll warm up to you,” Steve says, dropping down onto the couch beside Bucky, their knees resting against each other, “it just takes her awhile.” 

“You two are perfect for each other, huh?” Bucky laughs against the mouth of his bottle. 

“Yeah,” Steve huffs out a laugh, “I guess so.” They fall silent, taking sips as Bucky looks around the room, taking in all the little pieces of Steve’s life. Having Bucky here feels right, Steve enjoys his company, likes having him around, it’s a shame it's only for one night. Steve figures he better make the most of the time they have. 

“That your mom?” Bucky asks, nodding toward the photo frame on the mantle draped with a delicate rosary. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, taking another sip. 

“She’s beautiful,” Bucky says, turning to him, “you kinda look like her, you know?” he pauses as Steve nods. “Where’s she at?” he asks and Steve lets out a breath. Six long years passed and he still feels the loss in his gut when he thinks about her. 

“She’s got a little plot in town, next to my dad.” 

“Oh,” Bucky says softly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” 

“It’s okay,” Steve says, nodding in reassurance. It’s not quite the truth, but the last thing he wants is Bucky to feel bad for bringing her up, “she’s been gone a long time now.” 

“What happened?” Bucky asks, “if you don’t mind me asking.” 

“I moved up here to live with her after the divorce,” Steve says then pauses as he takes another sip, “found out she was sick pretty soon after. She suffered for two years, I’ve been up here alone ever since.” 

Bucky rests his hand gently on Steve’s shoulder, “I’m sorry to hear that.” The gesture soothes something inside him, he almost melts into it. 

“She believed in heaven,” Steve nods, “hopefully that worked out for her.” 

“You don’t?” Bucky asks, letting his hand fall between their legs, his fingers brushing against Steve’s thigh. 

“I stopped believing in that stuff years ago, in that sense anyway,” he pauses, “I figure if heaven does exist, it’s right here on Earth, just a matter of finding it.” 

“That’s an incredibly romantic way of thinking for such a surly man,” Bucky smiles, bringing his beer to his lips. The statement lightens the mood and Steve’s grateful for it. 

“I have my moments,” Steve says, offering him a smile back. “What about your family,” he asks, changing the subject, “does your mom even know where you are? If you're safe?” 

“I wrote her a letter right after, telling her not to worry,” Bucky nods, letting out a long breath, “but I haven’t talked to any of them since.” 

“How long ago was that?” Steve asks. 

“Almost six years,” Bucky swallows as he looks down at the carpet. 

“Jesus, Buck, she’s probably worried sick,” Steve blurts out, sitting up as he turns to him. 

“You don’t have to make me feel worse about it,” Bucky says. 

“You should call her,” Steve says, “you can’t waste time you might not have bein’ scared.” His own words settle in his thoughts and he realizes he’s been doing just that. Wasting his life scared to get close to anyone again, closing himself off from the world to keep from getting hurt. It’s stupid, he knows it is, living like this, alone and isolated but it always felt easier than the alternative. He figures now, maybe he needed someone like Bucky to help him realize that, all along. 

“I can’t,” Bucky shakes his head, “not yet. 

“What are you waiting on?” Steve asks. 

“Having something good to tell her.” Bucky meets Steve’s eyes and the look on his face breaks Steve’s heart. It hits him like a punch to the gut, feeling like the air’s been sucked right out of him as Bucky looks back down at the floor. He wants to make it better, he wants to take Bucky’s pain away. Every part of him wants to make sure he never has to feel that way again, but he doesn’t know what to do. Struggling to find the right words, he rests his hand on Bucky’s shoulder and squeezes. 

Out of other options, he figures maybe a change in scenery and a distraction is what he needs. “Come on,” he says, “I got something I want to show you.” 

He leads Bucky out toward his shop and slides open the large barn doors. His sculptures in various stages of completion are scattered around the room, mixed in with pieces of half finished furniture. Tools line the walls and cover the various work benches, piles of scrap materials litter the corners. In the center of the room is the sculpture of a rearing horse he made out of scrap metal, almost life size and towering over them. Bucky walks up to it and runs his hand over the rough surface. 

“Did you make this?” he asks as he looks it over carefully. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “I’ve been working on that one for about a year now. I just finished it last week.” 

“It’s amazing,” Bucky says, looking up at it as he circles it’s base, “do you sell them?” 

“If I can,” Steve says, watching Bucky admire his work, “it’s how I make my living.” 

“I respect that,” Bucky says, turning to a large wooden slab bench. Steve watches Bucky’s hand trail over the surface he’s been working on planing and sanding, his fingers dipping over the smooth edges, exploring it with careful precision. “I used to draw,” Bucky says, taking everything in, “when I was in school.” 

“Why’d you stop?” Steve asks. 

“Just sorta,” Bucky shrugs as he takes a seat on the bench, “lost interest I guess.” 

“Do you miss it?” Steve’s eyes follow the absent minded movement of Bucky’s hands ghosting over the surface of the wood. 

“Sometimes,” Bucky admits, “I wasn’t very good.” 

“Good is subjective,” Steve says, glancing back up to catch Bucky’s profile, “you should get back to it.” 

“Maybe someday,” Bucky shrugs, turning back to Steve. “This is all really amazing, Steve.” 

“Thank you,” Steve nods, pride swelling in his chest and he can’t help the smile that spreads on his lips. 

“I’m very impressed,” Bucky smiles back, “I figured you woulda been a logger of somethin’, not an artist.” 

It puts Steve at ease, seeing Bucky’s smile again. “Well,” Steve huffs out a laugh, “I didn’t exactly peg you for your profession right off the bat either.” 

“Guess that’s why people are always talking about book covers and all that, huh,” Bucky smiles. 

“Yeah,” Steve laughs, “I guess so.” He takes a sip off his beer, “you hungry?” 

“A little, yeah,” Bucky says, “but I don’t want to put you out any, I can wait.” 

“Come on,” Steve says, nodding back toward his house, “I was working on dinner anyway, it’s no trouble. You like grouse?” 

“Can’t say that I’ve ever had it,” Bucky says as he stands to follow Steve back out of the shop. 

“You like chicken?” Steve asks, sliding the doors shut behind them. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, huffing out a laugh. 

“It’s kinda like that,” Steve explains, “except more tender and a completely different flavor.” He looks over to Bucky with a smile. 

“So it’s nothing like chicken,” Bucky laughs, “got it.”


	5. Chapter 5

Back in Steve’s kitchen, Bucky takes a seat at the table watching as Steve busies himself around the room. There’s a comfortable ease between them now. It feels like habit, really, like they’re a couple of old friends sharing an evening together, the tension of their first meeting gone and Steve’s pretty sure he doesn’t want it to end.

“I wasn’t plannin’ on guests, of course,” Steve says as he turns on the oven, “so I only thawed the one grouse, there won’t be much as far as meat to share, but I’ll make extra vegetables.” 

“That works for me,” Bucky says with a smile, resting his chin in his hand. 

“You want some coffee of tea or something?” Steve asks, getting two pans out of the cupboard next to the stove, “water?” 

“Tea sounds great,” Bucky says, “if it’s not too much trouble.” 

“No trouble,” Steve insists, grabbing a sauce pan out of another cupboard, “make yourself at home, seriously,” he adds as he fills it with water then sets it on the stove to boil. 

“Okay,” Bucky smiles, “do you need help with anything?” he asks, “I can peel or chop, or something. 

“Sure,” Steve nods, “thanks.” He hands Bucky a knife and a cutting board then turns to the refrigerator, digging out handfuls of pre-washed turnips, radishes, and spring cabbage out of the cardboard box on the shelf. “I don’t have much in the way of produce yet,” he says as he hands them to Bucky, “still too early for most things.” 

“That’s alright, this looks great,” Bucky says as he starts on removing the remaining stems and leaves. “I haven’t cooked in a real kitchen in, well,” he pauses, “since I left home, I guess.” He sighs as he rough chops everything into cubes, “not much in the way of home cooked meals when you live motel to motel.” 

“You mean this ain’t a habit of yours?” Steve asks, melting butter in one of the pans, “showin’ up at customers’ places.” He smiles over his shoulder at Bucky as he grabs the berries out of the sink. 

“No,” Bucky laughs, “although I gotta say, if I’d-a-known it would be like this, I would have started a lot sooner.” Steve laughs at that, adding the berries to the pan and Bucky sighs behind him. “Nah,” he says, “most johns ain’t as welcoming as you are, and I don’t like most of them anyway.” 

“Well shit, Buck,” Steve says, grabbing the last lime from the fridge “I’m honored.” There’s not much juice left in it by now but there’s enough to get some sort of acid to cut through all the sweet and he likes the flavor lime adds to the compote. 

“Not that you were exactly welcoming either, though,” Bucky huffs out a laugh, “but you’re alright.” 

“Yeah, well,” Steve starts, pulling a mug and a cold remedy tea bag out of the cupboard next to the sink, “you know, it just takes me a while to warm up to people.” He sets the teabag in the mug and pours some of the boiling water into it over the sink. The droplets of water sizzle off the surface as he sets the pot back on the stove. “Here,” he says as he hands it to Bucky, “it’s hot.” 

“Ah,” Bucky says as he sets it down on the table and shakes his hand, “yeah, thanks. Oh,” he grabs the cutting board of vegetables and hands it to Steve, “these are done.” 

“Thanks,” Steve says as he sets it on the counter. “Don’t have any sugar,” he says, dropping the shelled bitterroot into the pot of water, “and I’m out of milk, hope that’s okay.” 

“That’s fine,” Bucky says, “I like it plain anyway.” They’re quiet for a moment as Steve arranges the vegetables into a roasting pan. He pours some olive oil over them and sprinkles them with salt and pepper, then rolls them around in pan to coat them evenly. 

“You really know what you’re doing, huh?” Bucky asks. 

Steve lets out a laugh, “not even close,” he takes the compote off the stove and turns off the burner, “but living out here, I got no one to count on but me, you know?” 

“Guess so,” Bucky pauses, “was your mom a good cook?” 

“Yeah,” Steve smiles, “she came over from Ireland when she was young,” he says as he sets the roasting pan in the oven. “Lived in Brooklyn for a couple of years and got really excited by all the new food she had around her, taught herself how to cook all kinds of stuff.” He grabs another beer from the fridge and sits down across from Bucky at the table. “Then she met my dad, another Irish immigrant, and they decided they missed the quiet country life, ended up settling down in Montana of all places,” Steve nods toward the north, “they moved out to this place after I graduated high school,” he pauses, “when I got married.” He sighs and takes a long drink off his beer. 

“Did you get married right outta high school?” Bucky asks, sitting up and resting his elbows on the table. 

“I was nineteen, she just graduated,” Steve nods, “her folks helped set us up in a little house in Missoula.” 

“What happened?” Bucky asks, “you said she left you because she thought you were gay?” 

“She wanted kids,” Steve shrugs, “I wasn’t ready. Turns out I just didn’t want them and didn’t know how to tell her.” He picks at the peeling label on his beer, “we had a lot of ‘problems in the bedroom’,” he admits, punctuating the statement with a wave of his hand, “as she called them. I just couldn’t fuck her anymore. I don’t know what happened, I just couldn’t get it up.” 

“It’s not easy to know who you are or what you want when you’re nineteen,” Bucky says, “that’s not your fault.” 

“No, I know,” Steve takes a sip off his beer, “I mean, I loved her, I still do,” he pauses, “but if we would have waited, I woulda realized sooner we just weren’t the right people for each other. Instead we tried to make it work for five long years,” Steve nods, “the whole time she was accusing me of being gay and lying about it.” 

“How’d you guys split up?” Bucky asks. 

The sincerity behind Bucky’s questions, although deeply personal, makes it easy for Steve to want to open up to him. It’s like he genuinely wants to know more about him and Steve’s not used to that sort of thing, but it’s nice. “I got a call from her telling me that she met someone else and she wanted me out of the house. I was devastated,” he huffs out a laugh, “but obviously it was for the best. I hear she’s doing well,” he takes another sip, “she’s got three kids now, I’m happy for her.” 

“Damn,” Bucky shakes his head as he sits back, “that’s rough.” 

“Well,” Steve shrugs, “we weren’t happy, you know? People don’t always work out.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods. They fall into a comfortable silence as Bucky sips his tea, the smell of roasting vegetables slowing filling the room around them. “I’ve never had a real boyfriend,” Bucky’s voice breaks the silence from behind his mug. 

“Oh yeah?” Steve asks, curious as to how someone like Bucky never dated. Lookin’ the way he does, Steve can’t see it being hard for him to find someone willing, and how outgoing and sweet his is on top of it, he’s sure guys would have been lined up down the block for a chance with him. “How’s that?” 

“I fooled around with some friends in school,” Bucky says, “just kids messing around you know? But they didn’t know I was gay, no one did-” he pauses, pulling his eyebrows together, “does- I guess, except you, really.” His eyes meet Steve’s for a moment as he continues, “then when I joined the Army, I couldn’t exactly be open about things,” he shrugs, “not that that stopped a bunch of us from fuckin’ around with each other, we just had to be careful and hide it.” 

“How’d you end up,” Steve pauses with a wave of his hand, not sure how to put it respectfully, “you know-” 

“Sellin' myself?” Bucky asks bluntly, saying what Steve couldn’t. 

Steve swallows, “well, that’s not how-” he swallows, “yeah.” 

“Got shipped to the middle of nowhere Oklahoma for basic and hitched my way out of there as soon as I could,” Bucky says, matter-of-factly, “I didn’t have much of anything, certainly not enough money to start a new life. Turned out though that men were more than willing to trade a ride or some cash for a young, fresh faced man’s services. It felt like it was something I was good at, made me feel wanted I guess. I ended up making pretty good money at it once I settled down outside of Amarillo,” he pauses and lets out a sigh, “just sort of stuck with it, I guess.” 

“That sounds like a lonely life, Buck,” Steve says as he glances at the clock on the wall. 

“You’re one to talk, up here all alone in the mountains,” Bucky laughs, “you’re lonely by choice, you could find someone if you wanted to,” Bucky continues as Steve gets up and turns on one of the burners, “people aren’t exactly lining up to hang around with me.” 

He supposes maybe Bucky’s got a point, maybe most people don’t see Bucky’s value beyond his profession, don’t see him as someone worth more than what they can use him for and it breaks Steve’s heart. Bucky’s just about the most genuinely kind hearted, warm person Steve’s met in a long while and anyone would be lucky to get to know him, much less have the opportunity to be loved by him. Their loss. 

“Well,” Steve says, dropping a slab of butter into the pan, “at least we got each other to call friends now, that counts for somethin’ don’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, “that counts for something.” 

Steve sears the grouse in the pan until it’s golden brown and crispy then takes the vegetables out of the oven. He stirs them around then nestles the grouse on top and adds a few sprigs of rosemary. It all goes back into the oven and he turns his attention to the bitterroot. 

“Food’s almost ready,” he says as he drains the water, “it ain’t much but I hope you like it.” 

“It’s more than enough, Steve,” Bucky says with a smile, “this is more than anyone’s done for me in a long while and I’m sure grateful for it.” 

Steve smiles to himself at Bucky’s words, feeling a sort of accomplishment or maybe pride for making Bucky happy, for doin’ something for him. When everything’s ready, Steve carves the grouse and carefully arranges the meal onto matching plates. They aren’t beautiful like the ones in those cooking shows, but Steve’s proud of them nonetheless as he sets one in front of Bucky. 

“Thank you,” Bucky says as he looks up at him, “really.” 

“It’s nothin’” Steve smiles, taking his seat across from Bucky. 

“What’s this?” Bucky asks, pushing his fork through the mash on his plate. 

“Bitterroot,” Steve says as he chews, “from the yard.” 

“Those little pink flowers all over?” he asks, pulling his eyebrows together. 

“Yup,” Steve nods, “it’s not exactly the most delicious thing in the world, but it’s good for you and I got plenty of it.” 

They eat in silence for a few minutes, glancing up at each other every so often and offering each other smiles. “This is good,” Bucky says finally, “you eat like this all the time?” 

“I just eat what I can get a hold of mostly,” Steve smiles, “whatever’s in season.” 

“No wonder you look the way you do,” Bucky says, dipping a piece of the grouse into the compote, “hardy food does a body good.” 

“You ought to stick around for a while,” Steve says, laughing to hide the seriousness behind his words, “get some meat on those bones.” 

“Bones?” Bucky laughs back, raising his eyebrows, “you sure seemed like you liked these bones just fine back in my room, if I remember you fillin’ out those sweatpants correctly.” 

“Well, you know,” Steve shrugs with a smile, feeling his cheeks go warm, “seein’ someone in the flesh like you so generously offered has a certain effect on a fella that can’t be helped,” he takes another bite, “bones or not.” 

“Oh, right, okay,” Bucky laughs, leaning back in his chair, “well, I must have misunderstood then.” 

“Guess so,” Steve smiles. 

After dinner, Bucky helps him clean up. They do the dishes side by side at Steve’s farm sink and set everything in the drying rack for the night. Bucky waits patiently on the couch while Steve pulls his spare winter blankets out of the hall closet. He ends up deciding to offer Bucky one of the pillows off his bed, which Bucky accepts with a smile. Steve makes him a bed on the couch, as comfortable as he can and turns out the light. They say their goodnights and Steve sleeps more soundly than he has in a long while. 

They sit in comfortable silence over coffee the next morning on Steve’s front porch. The early morning air’s already warm and there’s a hint of a breeze tickling the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. A beautiful morning spent in good company and he thinks it just might be perfect. 

“You headin’ out today?” he asks, a pit in his stomach as he remembers Bucky’s plan. He doesn’t want him to leave, not quite yet anyway. He’s not ready to say goodbye forever but he won’t stand in the way of Bucky’s decision. What right does he have to put that on him, to ask him to stay when he’s already made up his mind? 

Bucky is quiet for a moment as he looks out over Steve’s property. Steve studies his features, angular but delicate, tracing over the lines of his profile with his eyes. He’s absolutely beautiful, Steve decides. Not that he didn’t know that before, objectively he’s known since he first saw him, of course he has. But sitting here now in the light of the early morning sun, it's different, like he’s seeing him for the first time again, only this time it comes with an ache deep in his chest he can’t quite explain. As Bucky’s silence lingers on, a small hint of hopefulness grows within Steve, blossoming as Bucky finally turns to him again. 

“I can stick around another day or two,” he says softly, “if you want me to.” 

“I’d like that,” Steve says, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips. 

* * *

The two of them spend the next morning touring Steve’s property. Steve shows him his gardens, pointing out all the different kinds of plants already growing and his little starts for the next season. Bucky takes it all in stride, asking questions along the way like he’s genuinely interested and it makes Steve smile. It’s kind of nice havin’ someone to share things with, especially someone as eager to learn as Bucky. 

Out behind the house, Bucky stops in his tracks, “is that a bathtub?” he asks, looking over Steve’s shoulder. 

“Oh,” Steve turns to look, “yeah, got it off a guy who bought a rocking chair I made, said he had no use for it. There’s no room in the house, so,” he shrugs, “there it sits.” 

“Do you ever use it?” Bucky asks, looking back at Steve. 

“Sometimes, when the weather’s nice and I feel like bein’ outside,” he says as he starts to walk toward it, “it’s peaceful for sure.” 

“A perk of living out in the middle of nowhere, huh?” Bucky asks as he follows him. 

“One of many,” Steve says and Bucky looks over at him with a smile. 

“I’m starting to see the appeal,” Bucky laughs as they reach the old porcelain tub. It’s clawed feet sit atop a short wooden platform over a layer of river rocks for drainage. “Can I use it?” Bucky asks, looking it over as he runs his hand along it’s edge, “do you mind?” 

“By all means,” Steve gestures to it, “it’s all yours.” 

“Thanks,” Bucky smiles, “right now?” 

“Sure, I’ll go get the water started,” Steve nods, “it takes awhile to get it all heated up, gotta fill it in trips.” 

“Show me the way.” Bucky follows along with him as he fills and heats potfulls of water, carrying them out to the tub and filling it trip by trip. 

“There’s room for one more, probably,” Steve says as he dumps another potfull in, “I’ll be right back.” 

“Okay,” Bucky nods and Steve heads back into the house. 

He fills up another pot full of hot water from the sink, not bothering to heat it more than that and carries it back out the back door. Bucky is pulling his jeans off his feet, ass bare to the world as Steve steps out into the backyard. He tries not to look, he really does, but then Bucky turns around to greet him and Steve’s mouth goes dry. 

Bucky’s got the kind of cock he sees around in the few skin mags he’s picked up over the last few years. Not the huge ones that make Steve’s ass clench, but the real pretty ones. The ones you can tell are nice and thick when they’re hard, all the way up to the fat pink head Steve can’t help but want to suck. It’s not too long either, but Steve bets he’s quite the sight for those lucky enough to see him at his full potential. He’s circumcised, Steve notices, and he’s got a thick patch of dark hair at the base, spreading out over his thighs and up his stomach. He looks like he’s straight out of the vintage porn Steve prefers to watch over the smooth look that seems to be everywhere these days. 

Steve swallows thickly, that spark of want within him rearing its head again. 

“Damn,” Bucky laughs, “if I charged for looks you’d owe me a pretty penny.” 

“Sorry,” Steve clears his throat, shaking his head, “I didn’t mean-” 

“Steve,” Bucky laughs, “you can look all you want, I don’t mind.” He takes his soft cock into his hand, letting it rest comfortably in his palm, “like you said, we’re just human, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Besides, I’ve seen yours, it’s only fair. 

“Right,” Steve huffs out a forced laugh, “how could I forget.” That morning in his truck feels like ages ago now, like nothing but a half remembered dream, fuzzy around the edges. But Steve’s body responds like muscle memory at the mention of it. His fingers itching to adjust himself as his cock begs for even the barest hint of pressure. 

“That bad, huh?” Bucky asks, letting his cock fall against his thighs as he reaches for the pot of water left forgotten in Steve’s grip. 

“No,” Steve blurts out, “no,” he repeats, softer this time as Bucky dumps the water into the tub, “it was- you were great, actually.” 

“You always that rough?” Bucky asks as he hands the pot back to him. Steve’s stomach drops out from under him. 

“Buck, I’m sorry about that,” Steve assures him, “I was taking my own bullshit out on you and that ain’t right, and it ain’t me.” 

“I appreciate that,” Bucky says, stepping into the water, “but I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t like it like that on occasion.” He settles down against the back edge of the tub and spreads his legs, resting his knees against the porcelain, almost like an invitation. “With the right person, that is.” 

“Right.” Steve’s eyes drift down Bucky’s body, glancing at his cock again, floating against his stomach. His eyes linger there for a moment then flick back up to meet Bucky’s eyes as the spark of want in his gut ignites into a burning need. Bucky’s lips curl into a smile like he’s in on some kind of secret, like he can see right through the walls Steve’s carefully built around himself and it makes his stomach clench. Steve swallows hard then clears his throat. “I’ll be in the house if you need anything,” he says, his voice dry. 

“Okay,” Bucky says, looking up at him with a smile as he scrubs the bar of soap on the washcloth Steve gave him. 

“Take as long as you’d like,” Steve forces himself to smile back with a nod. Bucky’s eyes linger on him and he needs to get away, he feels like he’s lost control of himself. Bucky’s under his skin again and he doesn’t know what to do. He turns to head back into the house without another word but he can still feel Bucky’s eyes on him. It sends a shiver of heat through his body. 

Once inside, he shuts the backdoor behind him and without another thought, he heads straight for the bathroom without stopping. Making sure to lock the door first, he turns around and falls back against it. In a rush, he shoves his hand into his jeans, dropping his head back against the door as he rubs his palm down against himself and _fuck_, it feels so good but it’s not enough, it’s never enough. With a frustrated groan he withdraws his hand and pulls his fly open. He looks around the room and settles on the bottle of hand lotion he keeps by the sink. 

It’s cold in his palm as he takes hold of himself, the sensation forcing a sharp intake of breath. It warms up quick though as he strokes himself fast and harder than he usually likes it, his eyes squeezed shut. The image of Bucky’s body burned behind his eyelids, his thoughts focused on all the things he’d like to do with him. It’s over before he lets himself think about what he’s doing. In a rush, he grabs one of the hand towels off the rack and groans, his body trembling as he spills into it. 

“Fuck,” he curses as he throws it onto the floor. As reality sets back in, he hits his fists against the counter, hanging his head in frustration as his breathing steadies. Bucky's here under the assumption they can be friends, that Steve can keep it together no matter how- how comfortable Bucky is with his body and sexuality. Steve's actions are a betrayal of that trust and he doesn't know how he's going to face Bucky again. He stands like that for a while, unable to even look at himself in the mirror until he finally straightens up and turns on the sink to wash the evidence off his skin. With a heavy sigh, he runs his wet hands through the hair hanging in his face then drags his hand over his mouth and beard, looking himself in the eye, finally. Guilt pools hot in the pit of his stomach, he thought he was past this. 

He tucks himself back into his jeans then closes the toilet lid and takes a seat, resting his head in his hands. Staring at the floor, he tries to gather himself enough to go back out there, to be able to look at Bucky again without giving himself away. The mess on the towel at his feet catches his eye and he sighs, feeling let down by his own lack of restraint. He picks it up and wads it into a tight ball to conceal the stain within. His hamper is nearly full when he goes to toss it in so he grabs a handful of dirty clothes off the top and stuffs the towel underneath, hiding his shame from himself and the world.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve’s quiet over dinner that night, finding hard to even look at Bucky, ashamed at himself and his actions. They sit together at the kitchen table, the sounds of their forks scraping on plates the only sound in the room. After a lot of thought, Steve interrupts the crushing silence between them, “I’m heading back into town in a couple of days,” he stabs at his food as he speaks, “I can give you a ride. You can get another room or catch a bus from there if you want.” He figures he owes Bucky an out after that display. If he’s not going to be able to see Bucky as a friend and nothing more, he doesn’t deserve Bucky’s friendship at all.

“Oh,” Bucky nods, pushing the food around his plate, “okay, sounds good.” 

“Great,” Steve nods back and shovels a fork full of baked potato into his mouth. 

“What’s going on with you?” Bucky asks after a few more quiet minutes, “you seem upset.” 

Steve looks up at that, meeting Bucky’s eyes across the table and his chest tightens. “Nothing,” he says as he looks back down at his plate, “I just got a lot on my mind, is all.” 

“Is it about earlier?” Bucky asks, “I didn’t mean to cross any lines, I just thought-” 

“No, it’s not-” Steve shakes his head, cutting Bucky off. “Well-” he stops again, “I don’t know.” 

“You know, part of my job is reading people,” Bucky says and Steve shifts in his chair. The last thing he wants is Bucky knowin’ what he’s thinking, especially now. “And it looks to me like you’ve got some stuff you need to work through,” Bucky continues then takes a sip of water, “and maybe loosening up will help do the trick, where’d you say that whiskey was?” 

“In the cupboard above the sink,” Steve says, figurin’ maybe Bucky has a point and getting drunk is exactly what he needs right now. Maybe he just needs to pass out and forget about everything for a while like he used to, it always worked, until it didn’t. 

“You want some?” Bucky asks, grabbing the nearly full bottle of Black Velvet off the shelf. 

“Sure,” Steve nods, “make it a triple.” 

“Okay,” Bucky laughs as he fills two glasses, “sounds good, pal.” 

Between them, they finish the bottle in no time and boy, Bucky was right, Steve’s rough edges are velvety smooth. The suffocating weight of all this- all these confusing feelings, like a distant memory now and he won’t have to deal with them until the light of the next morning. They’re sitting in the living room, having made their way there after they finished their first drink. Steve’s sprawled out on the couch and Bucky’s tucked into the recliner, staticy music playing over the radio and Steve hasn’t felt this good in, well, he can’t exactly remember. 

“You feelin’ better?” Bucky asks with a lazy smile. His cheeks are rosy pink and he looks so soft with his hair a mess and one of Steve’s too large flannel’s sleeves covering his hands. There’s a fondness that blooms in Steve’s chest as he looks him over through heavy eyelids. 

“Yeah,” Steve laughs, “I’m feelin’ better, thanks,” he says as he sits up, “how are you?” 

“I’m good,” Bucky laughs, “not as good as you though, I think.” 

“I may have had too much,” Steve smiles, “but I don’t drink this stuff alone much so,” he waves his hand, “you know.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, “I get it.” They’re quiet for another moment before Bucky speaks again. “You should let me draw you.” 

Steve’s chest swells with excitement at the offer, a chance for Bucky to show Steve his old hobby, something they both have in common. “Okay,” he says eagerly, “let me grab one of my old sketchbooks.” He returns shortly after with the sketchbook and a few different pencils and hands them to Bucky who takes them with a smile. “I didn’t know what kind you like so I grabbed all the different kinds I had.” He sits back in his spot on the couch and Bucky laughs. 

“No, no,” he shakes his head, “take your clothes off, ain’t you ever modeled before?” he gestures at Steve with the pencil. 

Steve blinks, unsure if Bucky’s joking or not and after a moment it becomes clear that he's not. “Bucky, I don’t-” he swallows, his stomach twisting with sudden nerves. The last thing on Earth Steve wants is his dick getting hard in front of Bucky without Bucky wantin’ it to and if he’s learned anything today, he knows he can’t exactly trust himself not to. 

“Come on,” Bucky smiles, setting the supplies down on the coffee table, “I’ll get naked too, so you won’t be so uncomfortable.” He shrugs Steve’s flannel off his shoulders and pulls his t-shirt off over his head, “no big deal, okay?” Steve hesitates, suddenly aware of how hot it is in his living room as he watches Bucky work on his belt. 

He’s torn, he really is, but the whiskey gets the better of him and he finally nods, “okay,” and pulls his shirt off too. He fumbles his way out of the rest of his clothes and settles back down on the couch, hands clasped tightly in his lap. 

“Relax,” Bucky soothes, “this is for art.” 

Steve nods again and does his best to relax, breathing out through his nose as he leans back against the couch and moves his hands away from himself. Really starting to feel the whiskey as he sits quietly. His eyes follow Bucky’s movements as he starts to sketch, drifting from the back of the sketchbook down to Bucky’s cock, resting between his thighs. He chances a glance up at Bucky’s face, his eyebrows are pulled tight in concentration and he snorts out a laugh. 

“What?” Bucky looks up at him with a smile. 

“Nothin’” Steve laughs, “you just look cute when you concentrate like that.” 

“You’re making this hard the way you keep laughing, you know,” Bucky says. 

“Sorry,” Steve swallows, “I’ll be still.” 

“Good,” Bucky smiles at him again. 

Steve watches Bucky’s eyes trace over his body, taking in each intricate detail, each flaw he’s suddenly too aware of. He feels vulnerable, being studied like this, but some part of him must like it because his body begins to respond to the attention, just like he figured it would. He’s too drunk to be all that bothered anymore but he still goes to cover himself out of some shred of decency until his eyes fall on Bucky’s lap, realizing he’s not the only one. 

“You can touch yourself,” Bucky says, meeting his eyes over the sketchbook, “I don’t mind. 

“Thought you wanted me to be still,” Steve says, meeting Bucky’s eyes again. 

“Well now I want you to touch yourself.” He’s serious, Steve realizes. The way he says it, like it’s a test, has Steve’s breathing coming a little faster, his heart beating a little harder. 

“Fuck.” He swallows against his dry throat and going against every bit of himself that says to stop, to walk away before this goes to far, he nods and rubs a hand down against himself. Giving himself what he knows he needs, he closes his eyes at the sensation, his body begging for more. Losing himself in the moment, he takes himself in his hand and strokes up his length, his foreskin gathering around the tip, before sliding back down. Just enough pressure to feel good without being too much. He doesn’t want to open his eyes, unsure if he’ll be able to stop if he does. 

“How does that feel?” Bucky asks, his voice lower than before and it pools hot in Steve’s gut. 

“Fuckin’ good,” Steve breathes out. Chancing it, he opens his eyes again, blinking as he tries to focus his vision. Bucky is watching him, sketchbook forgotten on the coffee table, half finished sketch of Steve’s naked body on the page. Steve looks back as Bucky spreads his legs, giving Steve a better view and he swallows thickly. Bucky’s every bit what Steve imagined. As Steve takes in the sight, Bucky spits in his palm and takes himself in his hand. 

“Go ahead,” he says as he strokes himself slowly. It’s like a dream, Steve thinks, spinning and out of focus like it isn’t real, can’t be real. Too good to be true and Steve doesn’t want it to end. 

“Shit,” Steve curses, his eyes trained on the movement. He grabs hold of himself again, meeting Bucky’s eyes as he moves his hand, matching Bucky’s pace. 

“What do you want to do to me?” Bucky asks, his voice trembling. 

“Wanna taste you,” Steve breathes out without thinking, “all over.” 

“What else?” Bucky asks, watching him closely like he’s unsatisfied with his answer. 

“Wanna make you come,” Steve admits. 

“Do you want to fuck me?” Bucky breathes out, closing his eyes as his pace picks up. 

“Yes,” Steve groans, unable to stop himself. 

“How?” Bucky asks. 

“Want you to ride my cock,” Steve says as he drops his head back against the couch, his hips thrusting up into his hand. “I wanna make you feel so good, Buck,” Steve breathes out and Bucky whimpers softly at that, making Steve’s body tense, heat pooling low in his gut. 

“Look at me,” Bucky groans. 

Steve opens his eyes, picking up his heavy head as he focuses on Bucky. His eyebrows are pulled tight as his mouth slowly opens. Steve takes it all in as his hips jump, his hand stroking fast. “Fuck,” Steve says again, stilling his hand as Bucky’s hips shutter in front of him, his thighs shaking as he leans back, lifting his ass off the chair. His dick pulses in his hand as he comes, spilling over his heaving chest and stomach. A string of whimpers escape his lips as his body trembles. Waves rolling through him until the last drops dribble onto his fingers and he settles back down against the chair, panting. 

“Shit,” he breathes out, closing his eyes tight as he breathes, “your turn.” 

Steve does as he’s told without hesitation, picking up his pace as he strokes himself fast, bringing himself to the edge. He looks at Bucky, messy and covered in a shining layer of sweat. He’s beautiful and Steve doesn’t want to look away. He studies him, trying to memorize every detail, unsure if he’ll ever get the opportunity again, as he pushes himself over the edge, spilling over his hand. He squeezes himself dry as Bucky watches. 

“Well,” Bucky huffs out a laugh, “shit.” 

Steve nods, his eyes fluttering closed as he steadies his breathing. “Yeah,” he breathes out, “shit.” He lets his hands fall to his sides, dropping his head back against the couch again. The sound of Bucky moving catches his attention but he doesn’t have the energy to look up again, unwilling to let go of the image of Bucky seared into his mind anyway. 

The sound of running water in the kitchen fills the silence of the house and soon after, Bucky returns. “Here,” he says, wiping a warm washcloth across Steve’s stomach. The heat of it sending a shiver through Steve’s over sensitive body. 

Steve reaches up finally, taking the washcloth from Bucky’s hand. “Thanks,” he says, the rest goes unsaid. 

“Get yourself cleaned up,” Bucky says, taking a seat next to him on the couch, “you’re a mess.” 

Steve can hear the smile in his voice and it fills him with that old familiar warm fondness he’s not sure if he’s ready to accept. He clumsily wipes himself clean then drops his head back again, feeling the overwhelming need to spill himself to Bucky. “I still want to kiss you,” he confesses. 

“I know,” Bucky says, taking hold of Steve’s hand, “c’mon, let’s get you to bed, big guy.” 

“Okay,” Steve nods as he stands. His legs shake beneath him, almost losing his balance but Bucky catches him. 

“C’mon,” he says again, leading Steve toward his bedroom. Once there, Steve collapses onto his bed, taking Bucky down with him by the hand. They fall next to each other and laugh until they go silent again. “Get some sleep,” Bucky says, patting Steve on the stomach, “you need it. 

“Stay with me,” Steve groans, his eyes still closed to keep the room from spinning so much, “please?” 

“You sure?” Bucky asks. 

“Yeah.” 

* * *

Steve wakes up naked and alone the next morning, his head foggy and pounding and his stomach nauseous. He grabs a pair of boxers off the floor and pulls them up his legs, only stumbling slightly. In the bathroom, he empties his full bladder and brushes his teeth, trying to get the foul taste of whiskey breath out of his mouth. To his relief, he finds Bucky in the kitchen, the smell of pancakes heavy in the air and it turns his stomach. 

“Mornin’” Bucky says with a smile. 

“Hey,” Steve croaks out. 

“How you feelin’? Bucky asks. 

“Like shit,” Steve admits, opening the refrigerator and pulling out the orange juice. He takes a big swig and coughs, nearly choking at the taste. 

“That’s never a good combo,” Bucky laughs as he flips the pancake in the pan. It sizzles and Steve swallows, his mouth watering as his stomach threatens to spill it’s contents. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, “I don’t know why I did that.” He drops into one of the kitchen chairs. “How are you so chipper?” he asks, rubbing his head. 

“I’m still young,” Bucky laughs, “old folks like you gotta take it slow.” 

“I’m 32,” Steve groans, “not 80.” 

“Well one of us is wrong and I don’t think it’s me,” Bucky smiles, sliding the pancake onto the platter, “you hungry?” 

“No,” Steve huffs out a laugh, “but I should probably eat.” 

“Well there’s more than enough,” Bucky says, “the rest are in the oven.” 

“Thanks, man,” Steve says. 

“Least I could do,” Bucky shrugs, “you’ve been very hospitable, letting me crash here and all.” 

“You don’t have to do anything,” Steve says, resting his head on his hand. 

“Yeah, but I want to.” Bucky says and Steve probably would have picked up on the tone shift in Bucky’s voice if he felt better. 

“Well, I appreciate it,” Steve says and lets out a sigh. 

He spends the day in his shop, using work to try to keep his mind off his hangover and whatever it was that happened between them the night before. Bucky sticks around, helping where he can with various tasks. Steve shows him how to weld metal together and the smile he gives Steve when he does it for the first time makes Steve swell with pride. They stop for a quick lunch that Steve throws together out of whatever vegetables he’s got left in the fridge and then they get back to work. Just before sunset they decide to call it a night and Steve gets an idea. 

“You like star gazing?” he asks as they walk back toward the house. 

“Yeah,” Bucky’s face lights up with a smile, “I haven’t done that since I was a kid.” 

“We got the best skies,” Steve says, “barely any light pollution up here.” 

“Bet it’s spectacular,” Bucky says, looking up at the colors changing in the sky. 

“If it’s the right time of year you can see the milky way all the way across the sky,” Steve waves his hand for effect, “we can get some blankets together if you’re up for it.” 

“Sure,” Bucky nods with a smile, “yeah of course, that sounds awesome.” 

The two of them lay out a nest of sorts made of Steve’s spare blankets and his few pillows in the bed of his pickup. Steve lays back, resting his head on one of the pillows propped up against the back of the bed and Bucky settles down beside him. It’s more comfortable than it looks, and Steve figures they- well, he ought to do this more often. 

“So what about you?” he asks, turning to look at Bucky in the starlight, “where are you from?” The topic seems like easy conversation, something to keep them occupied as Steve tries to avoid the elephant in the room. He’s still not sure what happened, well, he knows what happened, but he’s unclear on why and not exactly sure he wants the answer. 

“Originally, I’m from upstate New York, that’s where my folks are,” Bucky pauses, “I think, anyway. They did the same thing you did,” he sighs, “got married young, only instead of splitting up like they should have, they’re still making it work. They’d rather be proud then happy, I guess, especially my mom.” 

“Where you close to them?” Steve asks, “growing up, I mean.” 

“My mom, yeah,” Bucky says, his lips spreading into a fond smile, “she was my best friend when I was little, me and dad never really got along though,” he shrugs. “He wasn’t abusive or anything, just distant.” Steve fights back the urge to tell Bucky to call his mom again, but he doesn’t want to press him on the matter, tells himself he’ll just do it when he's ready, whenever that is. 

“What about you?” Bucky asks, “you get along with your folks?” 

“I didn’t know my dad long,” Steve says, “he died when I was a kid, but what I remember of him is good,” he nods, “me and my mom were close though,” he pauses and they fall quiet again. “Do you have any siblings?” 

“Two sisters and a brother, all younger,” Bucky says, “you?” 

“Nah,” Steve shakes his head, “my parents were one and done, I guess.” 

“Didn’t want another one after you, huh?” Bucky smiles over at him. “You’re a handful,” he laughs as he looks back up at the night sky, “I don’t blame ‘em.” 

“Guess so,” Steve laughs and they’re quiet for another moment. A meteorite streaking across the sky catches Steve’s eye, he looks up just in time to see the tail end before it burns out. 

“You know, I really wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid,” Bucky says, looking up at the sky. 

“Really?” Steve asks, surprised at that fact, he didn’t figure Bucky the type. 

“Yeah,” Bucky lets out a soft laugh, “my folks were the ones who wanted me to enlist in the first place, military family and all, so I figured maybe I could get something I wanted out of it, if I did well enough I could get into the space program,” he pauses and laughs, “I really fucked that up, didn’t I?” 

“It ain’t your fault if the Army wasn’t right for you, no matter what your folks say,” Steve insists. 

“Thanks,” Bucky sighs, “for everything.” 

“I should be the one thankin’ you,” Steve huffs out a laugh, “if you hadn’ta come up to me in Eddie’s, we would have never met. I certainly can’t count on myself startin’ anything.” 

They fall into silence again as the air starts to cool. Bucky pulls his flannel closed around his neck and reaches for one of the blankets. He lays it over them and nestles his body close against Steve’s side. A soft sort of contentment settles in Steve’s chest as he moves his arm and settles it around Bucky’s shoulders. It’s comfortable, like he belongs there. 

“Hey, Steve?” Bucky asks quietly like he isn’t sure if he wants Steve to hear or not. 

“Yeah?” Steve turns to look at him. 

“About last night,” he pauses and Steve’s body tenses, he knew this conversation would come, he just wasn’t ready for it quite yet. “Did you mean it?” he asks, “about wanting to make me feel good?” 

Steve is quiet for a moment, it’s not quite what he was expecting Bucky to ask and he’s unsure how honest he wants to be. The last thing he wants is to push Bucky away, he’s the closest thing to a friend Steve’s got and he thinks he might be terrified of losing him. “Yeah,” Steve nods, finally, “yeah, I did.” 

“How did you mean it?” Bucky asks and Steve isn’t exactly sure how to answer. 

“I mean,” Steve starts then swallows, “physically, of course,” he admits, “but more that that I just sort of want to make you happy, I suppose.” 

“You do,” Bucky says, looking up at the stars and Steve can’t help his smile. 

Once it starts getting late, they pack up the blankets and carry them back inside, they’ve got an early start tomorrow, after all. 

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” Steve says from the hallway, “if you don’t want to, that is.” The two of them slept fine together the night before, his bed is plenty big for them both, but most of all, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t craving having someone beside him, even if it’s just someone to fall asleep next to. “The bed’s more comfortable than the couch anyway,” he adds, giving Bucky an excuse if he needs it, he knows if he were in the same situation, he’d be grateful for it. 

“Okay,” Bucky nods as he gathers his bedding, “sure.” 

Steve falls asleep that night with comfortable warmth radiating through him from where Bucky’s body touches his own under the blankets, unsure how he’s going to be able to sleep alone again once Bucky’s gone. 

They get a much later start than Steve’s used to and the drive back into town seems like it takes longer than usual. Steve’s stomach is in knots the whole way, wondering if this is the last time he’s ever going to see Bucky. He parks in his usual spot at Eddies, back at the far edge of the gravel lot and shuts off the engine. 

“You want me to wait for you somewhere?” Bucky asks, getting out of the truck. 

“What?” it takes a moment for Steve to realize what he’s asking and why he’s asking it, when he does his stomach turns with guilt. “No, of course not, come on,” he gestures with his head toward the restaurant, “my treat.” 

“I just figured you didn’t want folks knowin’ your business is all,” Bucky says as he follows him. 

“Fuck ‘em,” Steve says, pulling Bucky under his arm, “let ‘em talk.” 

They sit next to each other at the bar, Steve orders his usual even though it’s past lunch time by now and Bucky goes with a cowboy omelet and a short stack on the side. As they eat together, he catches Gladys smiling at him every so often, like she knows something he doesn’t and Steve wonders exactly what Bucky said when he asked her where he lived. 

She hands them the bill and Bucky takes it. “I got it,” he says, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and Steve sits, confused for a moment. 

“Guess you didn’t run out of money for your room, huh?” he asks as they get up to leave. 

“Guess not,” Bucky gives him a sly smile and winks. Steve huffs out a laugh, nodding to himself as they walk out of the restaurant. 

Bucky follows along as they go about the rest of Steve’s errands, helping Steve load stuff into the pickup. He picks up a few things here and there, stuffing them into his already full bags and Steve spends the few hours it all takes trying to work up the courage to ask Bucky one simple question. At least it should be simple. 

“Hey,” Steve clears his throat in the hardware store parking lot, “you want to stick around for a while and see a movie or something?” he asks finally, sick with nerves, “there’s a drive in theater up in Missoula and it’ll be nearly dark by the time we get up there, if you’re up to it.” He hadn’t been up that way in just about a decade and the thought of it makes him more than uncomfortable but more than that, he wants to spend the time he has left with Bucky doin’ something special and it doesn’t matter all that much what. 

Bucky’s lips spread into a smile that just about makes Steve melt. “I’d like that,” he says with a nod. 

The drive up north is uneventful, even if Steve’s nerves make him regret his choice of such a heavy lunch. It ain’t like he’s doing something worthy of being so uncomfortable over, it’s just a trip to the city but boy, Steve sure feels like he might as well be goin’ to war. Still, he’s grateful for the soft country playing over the radio and Bucky’s constant presence by his side, his hand resting on his knee every so often which helps calm him, even if it’s just a little. 

The night’s feature is some tornado disaster movie, although Steve’s never heard of it, Bucky says he’s been seeing ads around and it looks good. They park near the back with a clear view of the screen and Steve rolls down his window, a soft warm spring breeze blows through his hair as Bucky tunes the radio to the right frequency. He relaxes back against his seat and gets comfortable as he waits for the movie to start. To his surprise, Bucky scoots across the bench seat toward him and instinctively, Steve raises his arm for him. It’s not any more intimate than anything else they’ve done, but something about it sets Steve’s heart a flutter. 

Bucky settles against his side and Steve carefully rests is arm across Bucky’s shoulders, holding him close. As the movie plays, Bucky moves his hand over Steve’s lap, teasing at Steve’s fingers there with his own until Steve opens his hand for him and he laces their fingers together. Steve swallows, his throat dry as he keeps his eyes on the screen. The gesture fills him with so much hope, makes him want to believe that maybe this doesn’t have to end. 

“You know you can stick around.” He finally says what he’s been wanting to for days, and Bucky looks up at him, “for a few more days at least, if you want to.” He swallows again, and bares himself, “you don’t have to go,” the unspoken ‘at all’ catches in his throat. 

There’s an electricity hanging between them as Bucky’s eyes drop to Steve’s lips, lingering for a moment then back up to meet his own, “you sure?” he asks. That spark of want burning deeper than before, hot beneath his ribs it sets his heart racing. Steve licks his lips before he can stop himself, wanting to close the distance between them but not willing to cross Bucky’s boundaries. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “yeah, Buck, of course I do.” 

Bucky bites his bottom lip and Steve couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. “Okay,” he says as he glances at Steve’s lips again, “I’ll stay.” He’s so close, Steve can practically feel his soft breaths on his skin, the heat coming off him- but with that, he nestles back against Steve’s shoulder. Leaving Steve to gather himself as he tries to turn his focus back to the movie.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW art at the end of the chapter, heads up!

Steve’s been working out in his shop since just after sunrise, the cool morning air only now starting to warm as sunlight reaches his property. He’s straddling his wood slab bench as he sands it carefully, feeling along the edges for any rough patches as he goes. When he’s satisfied with it, he'll be able to stain it and finally put an ad up in the paper. His mind is focused as he works, he doesn’t notice Bucky until he steps up beside him, hair still damp from a shower and a steaming mug of coffee in his hand.

“How’d you sleep?” Steve greets him with a smile. Pulling his safety glasses off to see better, he squints against the sun behind Bucky, coming through the open barn doors. 

“Great, but too long,” Bucky smiles back , “why didn’t you wake me earlier?” 

“You looked so comfortable, I figured I’d leave you be,” Steve says, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. It’s not a lie, but to be completely honest, he figured he could also use some time alone to think. 

“You watchin’ me sleep or somethin’?” Bucky asks, taking a sip of his coffee with an eyebrow raised. 

“I may have glanced.” Steve looks up at him with a smile again. It’s so comfortable, being with Bucky like this, something like that ‘peaceful, easy feeling’ the Eagles were talking about in that song. Just the two of them, up here in the mountains together, his school boy nerves finally calmed by Bucky’s willingness to stay with him, even if only for a little while more. 

Bucky lowers his mug and reaches out with his free hand, resting his palm against Steve’s cheek. His hand is warm against his skin and Steve can’t help but melt into the gentle touch. He glances up to meet Bucky’s eyes as Bucky rubs his fingers through his beard. They stay like that for a moment, a charged sort of feeling hanging between them and Steve swallows, waiting for Bucky to decide what’s happening, where he wants this to go. To Steve’s surprise, Bucky tips his chin up toward him and leans in close, his eyes moving from Steve’s lips up to meet his eyes again. Steve parts his lips, unsure what to do and with that, Bucky closes the distance between them. It’s soft, just a gentle press of their lips together but Steve leans into it, can’t help himself, he closes his eyes as he lets Bucky take the lead. 

As fast as it happened, it’s over as Bucky pulls back, resting his forehead against Steve’s. “I thought you didn’t kiss johns,” Steve breathes out, his lips almost touching Bucky’s. 

“Is that all you are?” Bucky asks, barely above a whisper. 

“I hope not,” Steve says and leans in to kiss Bucky again, deeper this time as he opens up for him, savoring every moment until Bucky pulls back again. 

“I hope not too,” he says, his voice wavering slightly, “you have no idea how hard it was to tell you no when you said you wanted to kiss me.” The revelation hits Steve’s in the chest, settling heavy in his lungs as his breath catches in his throat. Bucky takes Steve’s bottom lip gently between his own and let’s it go again, “wanted to so bad.” 

“Why’d you do it?” Steve asks, running a calloused hand through Bucky’s hair as he pulls back to get a better look at him. 

“I didn’t want to let myself get attached to you,” Bucky says, his eyes still lowered, “not until I was sure. Knew if I did I wouldn’t want to let you go.” Steve lets out a slow breath, the full weight of Bucky’s statements slowly starting to sink in. 

“What changed?” he asks. 

Bucky’s throat works as he swallows, then he lifts his eyes to meet Steve’s finally, “I’m really hoping I won’t have to.” Something shifts inside Steve, a tightness in his chest that feels like it could swallow him whole. All he wants is to prove to Bucky he meant every word he said, to make him as happy as Bucky makes him. He takes Bucky’s hand, lacing their fingers together as he guides him onto his lap. He kisses him again, hungry and deep as Bucky straddles his legs easily, resting his arms on Steve’s shoulders for support. Taking a chance, Steve makes a move by sliding his hands into the back of Bucky’s jeans. It earns him a hum from Bucky against his lips in response as he rubs his palms down against the smooth skin where Bucky’s ass meets his lower back. 

Bucky pulls back with a content sigh. “I want you to fuck me,” he says against Steve’s lips, “right here.” 

Steve swallows, working against his suddenly too dry throat as he leans back, studying Bucky’s face for any hint of hesitation, anything to show he doesn’t mean it. Worried this is just some sort of fucked up part of him that thinks he owes it to Steve or something. But the sincerity in his eyes is all the confirmation Steve needs, he nods as he presses their lips together again, he should be nervous, he figures, having been so long since he’s been with someone, but something about this feels so natural, like it’s right where he belongs and it sends a shiver of anticipation through his body. This part’s easy, he thinks as he kisses Bucky, it’s the feelings that get him all tripped up, stumbling over himself like a kid with a crush. He realizes Bucky might as well have tied his shoelaces together with how easily he fell. 

There’s something calming about the sounds of the birds outside, singing in the morning sun, and the way Bucky’s breathing comes in a steady, practiced rhythm as Steve unbuckles Bucky’s belt. Without another word between them, he gets to work on Bucky’s fly as he sits in his lap, arms still resting on Steve’s shoulders, his hands clasped behind his head. Once open, he slides his hands into the back of Bucky’s loosened jean again, reaching further down this time. He moves his fingers through the soft hair covering Bucky’s skin there and Bucky hums contentedly as Steve squeezes the meat of his ass. He slides a hand further down, the waistband of Bucky’s jeans digging into his thick forearm as he drags a finger across the puckered skin of Bucky’s hole, his body responding as it flutters against his fingertip. 

As Steve touches him there, Bucky takes in a breath, almost a soft gasp, breaking their kiss as he rubs him gently. He starts to move his hips, rolling them back against Steve’s fingers and Steve’s body is screaming for more, eager to feel Bucky in every way he imagined. 

“There’s condoms in my bag,” Bucky breathes out, licking his lips as Steve moves his fingers. It hits Steve then that this is really happening, it’s all moving so fast, just yesterday he spent hours working up to asking Bucky to a fuckin’ movie like it was a date or something. But he’ll be damned if he’s not going to take all Bucky’ll give him. 

“Okay,” Steve nods, “I’ll be right back.” He kisses Bucky again, just a quick peck as he climbs off his lap. Steve steps out of the shade of the shop and into the bright sunlight of his driveway, taking a moment to center himself before heading into the house. When he returns, Bucky’s already naked and waiting for him, laying back against the bench. He pauses in the doorway for a moment, letting out a deep breath as he takes the sight in. It ain’t the first time he’s seen Bucky’s body bared for him, but it sure feels like it. He’s breathtaking, really, like every piece of classical art Steve studied in school, chiseled or painted by the careful, loving hands of the great masters. He could study him for hours and it wouldn’t be enough. 

“You gonna do me dressed?” Bucky asks, sitting up on his elbows. 

“Right,” Steve shakes his head, “no, hang on.” He sets the condoms and lube on the work bench next to him and shrugs off his suspenders. Toeing off his boots as he unbuttons his jeans, he makes quick work of stripping out of the rest of his clothes and joins Bucky on the bench. 

“Here,” Bucky says, taking one of the little foil wrappers from the pile, “let me.” He rips it open with his teeth and pulls the condom out. “I got tested last month,” he continues, grabbing the bottle of lube and dripping a little into it, “clean bill of health, but that don’t mean anything. Now, I haven’t blown anyone but you since then, so I know my mouth’s clean, but I been blown,” he takes hold of Steve’s cock with steady hands. Steve takes in a breath as Bucky slides his foreskin back and rolls the slick condom on with practiced ease, “you’d be surprised how many guys want to suck me off instead.” 

“I’m not surprised at all,” Steve breathes out, watching Bucky’s hand work him over. If it were up to him, he’d be on his knees for Bucky any time he’d let him. 

Bucky lets out a small laugh, “anyway, I fucked a couple guys since then too, is that okay?” he asks, meeting Steve’s eyes. The tone shifts for a moment, three unspoken letters that carry the weight of the world hang between them. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “yeah, that’s fine, Buck. I know what I’m signing up for.” He watches as Bucky strokes him gently a few times, Steve’s stomach jumping at the sensation as Bucky’s hand glides easily over the lubed latex. 

“Okay,” Bucky gives him a soft smile as he lets him go, “ready?” 

“Yeah,” Steve nods and Bucky takes hold of Steve’s shoulders, his right hand slipping slightly against his skin. Steve steadies him with firm hands on his waist as Bucky climbs back onto his lap, settling finally on Steve’s thighs. He huffs out a little laugh as he meets Steve’s eyes, and Steve offers him a smile in return. With that, Steve grabs the bottle of lube and pours some- too much, onto his fingers. He reaches around Bucky and rubs his slick fingers against his entrance, pushing the tip of his middle finger in, just barely dipping into the intoxicating heat inside him. He’s trembling already as he moves his fingers, sliding them in and out as he slicks him up inside. 

“That should be fine,” Bucky says, looking down at him. 

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, meeting his eyes. His experience tells him it takes more prep then that and he doesn’t want Bucky to be uncomfortable, but he figures Bucky knows his body better than anyone. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, “just go slow.” 

“Okay,” Steve says, withdrawing his fingers. Slow he can do, he doesn’t want to rush this for the world, “tell me if it hurts.” 

“You’re sweet,” Bucky smiles, “but this ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy, I can take it.” 

“Right,” Steve nods as he reaches under Bucky. He spreads the rest of the lube on his hand over his cock then wraps his hand around himself to hold it steady. Bucky’s fingers graze against his own as he uses his hand to help position himself. It’s overwhelming almost, how much Steve wants him, and it’s not even about the sex. It’s more than that, a deep want that terrifies him, the kind of thing he never wanted to feel again. The kind of thing that leaves you open and vulnerable to heartbreak. He closes his eyes, steadying his breathing as Bucky lines himself up. 

“You okay?” Bucky asks and Steve looks up at him. 

“Yeah,” he nods, not wanting Bucky to stop. With nod back, Bucky leans down to kiss him gently. With that he pulls back, biting his lip as he lowers himself down, pressing against the tip of Steve’s cock. Steve swallows as Bucky moves his hips in small circles, rubbing himself against him. He feels so Goddamn good already and Steve lets out a breath, his eyes threatening to flutter shut before he’s even inside. At that, Bucky wraps his hand around Steve’s and pushes down, the tip of Steve’s cock breaching him just so. Once Bucky’s body lets him in, the head of his cock slips into him easy and Steve gasps. 

Bucky stills, bracing himself over him as he meets Steve’s eyes, the look on his face must be something because Bucky smiles at him softly and leans in, catching Steve’s lips again. “You ever done anal before?” Bucky asks as he leans back, sinking down a little further, breathing out as Steve’s cock stretches him. 

“Not with a man,” Steve admits, licking his lips as Bucky takes him in. 

“You’re ex-wife?” Bucky asks and Steve nods, wishing he would talk about anything else. “She was adventurous, huh?” Bucky asks, lowering himself again and drawing a moan out of Steve. 

“I would love to talk to you about my ex,” Steve breathes out as Bucky takes him deeper, “but not right now.” 

Bucky nods, closing his eyes, his eyebrows pulled tight as he lowers himself until his seated fully in Steve’s lap, his cock nestled snugly inside him. Bucky feels different then she did, better. He relaxes his body, welcoming Steve in with practiced ease. She was tense, which he found out later was because she didn’t even like it, she just went along with it because after a while it was the only way he could get it up. With Bucky though, it’s how it’s supposed to feel and it’s better than Steve could have imagined. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good, Buck,” Steve breathes out against Bucky’s jaw, “shit.” 

“You’re,” Bucky sighs, “not so bad, yourself.” He lets out a breathy laugh and Steve can’t get enough. He kisses up Bucky’s neck, biting the skin of his jaw gently, earning a moan that escapes Bucky’s lips as he starts to move. He rides Steve’s cock, bracing himself on the bench for support as he rolls his hips, throwing his head back as he pants. All Steve can do is hold on tight, gripping his skin as he matches Bucky’s movement with his own. As Bucky’s moans become more frequent, Steve remembers his words from days ago, about liking it rough with the right partner. He wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist and lays him back against the bench. 

“You want it harder?” He asks, shaking the fallen strands of hair out of his eyes as he looks down at Bucky. 

Bucky lets out a breath, closing his eyes tight, “yeah.” 

Steve nods to himself and adjusts his position, he grabs Bucky’s hips, lifting them off the bench and lines himself back up. He slides back into the heat inside him easily and begins to move, pushing an endless string of whimpers out of Bucky with each thrust as he his body pounds against him. 

It doesn’t take long now before Bucky is a writhing mess beneath him. “I’m gonna come,” he groans, stroking himself clumsily and Steve has never wanted to see something more in his life. 

“Do it, baby,” Steve breathes out as Bucky’s body tenses around him, “come for me.” 

Bucky lets out a choked off moan, his body pulling tight under him and Steve keeps going, pushing Bucky over the edge until he shudders, spilling over his stomach. His body clenches around him in waves, dragging a groan from Steve’s throat, the sensation and sight almost enough to get him spilling into him. 

“Are you close?” Bucky asks, his face scrunched up as Steve fucks into his over sensitive body. 

“Yeah,” Steve groans, “shit.” 

“Come on me,” Bucky breathes out, “I wanna see.” 

Steve nods, every part of him protesting as he pulls out of Bucky’s body, doing as he’s told. He strips the condom off and tosses it onto the dirt floor then positions himself over Bucky. 

“Where?” Steve groans, his hand working over his cock fast, “quick.” 

“Anywhere,” Bucky says, trying to steady his breath as he watches him, “just do it.” 

“Fuck,” Steve chokes out, his hand slowing as he comes finally, painting a mess across Bucky’s perfect chest. He wrings himself dry over him, giving Bucky all he has to offer, then falls back onto the bench to catch his breath. Bucky lays still as they take each other in, a mess spread across his stomach and chest, damp hair clinging to his forehead. His knees and hips are marked with different shades of faded purples and yellows, evidence left behind of the other men who have had him, who have used him and left him. Steve finds himself wanting to leave his own mark, not on Bucky’s body like the others, but somewhere deeper, somewhere lasting. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” Steve breathes out. He gathers his strength and climbs back over Bucky with trembling limbs to press a string of kisses across Bucky’s neck and collar bone. 

“So are you,” Bucky says as he slides his hands through Steve’s damp hair, pushing it away from his face. Steve peppers wet, open mouth kisses across Bucky’s skin, careful to avoid the mess. As much as he wants to taste Bucky, he knows he can’t, not yet. Instead, he runs his tongue gently over Bucky’s nipple, making him hum, his back arching off the bench. Satisfied, Steve moves back up and kisses Bucky again, savoring the part of Bucky that’s all his. 

Bucky moves to sit up so Steve pulls back, moving to make room as Bucky scoots forward, his thighs draped over Steve’s. “That one’s on me,” he laughs, resting a hand on Steve’s jaw. 

“Oh, that’s generous of you,” Steve smiles, nipping at Bucky’s lips. 

“Hey,” Bucky smiles back, scratching his fingers through Steve’s beard gently, “I don’t give freebies out to just anybody.” 

“Thank you,” Steve says, turning serious as he leans in to kiss him, “for giving me a chance,” he kisses him again, “for letting me in.” 

“Right back at you, pal,” Bucky says softly against Steve’s lips. 

“Come on,” Steve says, patting Bucky on the thigh, “let’s get cleaned up.” He reaches over for his shirt laying on the floor next to the bench as Bucky climbs off him. 

“I’m just going to jump in the shower,” Bucky groans as he stands on shaky legs, “no sense in messin’ up your shirt.” 

“Fair,” Steve huffs out a laugh, gathering up the rest of their clothes. He pauses as he turns to Bucky, standing in the doorway silhouetted by sunlight and swallows. “You won’t have to,” he says, “let me go, I mean. Not if you don’t want to.” 

“I thought you didn’t like anybody,” Bucky smiles as Steve steps up next to him. 

“I like you,” Steve says, leaning in to kiss Bucky again. 

“Wow, you were right,” Bucky smiles against Steve’s lips, “you are much nicer after you get laid.” 

“Told you,” Steve says as he rests his arm against Bucky’s lower back, leading him back toward the house. Halfway up the porch steps, the phone rings from the kitchen and Steve rushes to grab it. Mostly the only folks who call are people lookin’ to buy things and Steve could always use the money. He drops the clothes on the couch and grabs the phone off the hook on the wall around the corner as Bucky heads to the bathroom. 

“That was a guy lookin’ to buy the horse,” Steve says as he leans against the bathroom door frame. The shower curtain is only half closed and he cocks his head, taking in the clear view of Bucky’s body, the hot water turning his skin a soft shade of pink. 

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, turning to face him as he scrubs the bar of soap against a washcloth, “that’s awesome,” he smiles. 

“He’s comin’ up Saturday morning, early,” Steve nods, watching Bucky reach behind himself to scrub himself clean, “should be a pretty good chunk of change.” 

“I sure hope so,” Bucky says as he washes himself, “it’s amazing.” 

“Thanks,” Steve smiles, a swell of pride in his chest. It means a lot, coming from Bucky. 

“You gonna get in here with me or what?” Bucky smiles back, scrubbing under his arm. 

“Okay,” Steve laughs, pushing off the door frame. He climbs in and shuts the shower curtain behind him. Bucky moves out of the way, spinning so Steve’s under the shower head. The hot water feels incredible against his skin. 

“Wash my hair,” Bucky says, handing Steve his own cheap shampoo, “I’ll suck your dick.” 

“I couldn’t get hard again yet if I tried, Buck,” Steve huffs out a laugh, taking the shampoo as Bucky drops to his knees. 

“I’ll suck it soft,” Bucky shrugs, looking up at him from under the wet hair clinging to his forehead. Before Steve can say anything Bucky’s running his tongue up his soft length, it sends a shiver running through his body and he almost forgets his part of the deal. 

He squirts shampoo into his palm as Bucky takes him easily into his mouth. “Wish I was goin’ down on you,” Steve admits as he rubs his palms together and reaches for Bucky’s hair. 

Bucky pulls back, letting Steve’s soft cock slip from his mouth. He catches Steve’s foreskin between his lips and pulls it gently as his cock falls back against his thighs. “Won’t know for a couple months,” Bucky licks up his length again, “then I can get tested again and be sure.” It doesn’t hit Steve right away, what Bucky’s saying, but when it does, he can’t help but smile at the thought of Bucky sticking around for months. Bucky looks back up at him then, “and that’s only if you’re the only one I’m with.” 

“I know,” Steve nods, scrubbing his fingertips against Bucky’s scalp. It’s unrealistic to expect Bucky to give up his living just for him, he understands that’s part of Bucky’s life and doesn’t expect him to change, and he doesn’t expect to be Bucky’s one and only. “Don’t mean I can’t wish it.” 

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky asks, looking up at him still. 

“Sure,” Steve says, “anything.” 

“You ever jerk off thinkin’ about me?” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips and Steve suspects he already knows the answer. 

“Yeah,” Steve admits without hesitation, “all the time.” 

Bucky smiles as he reaches up and pulls Steve’s foreskin back, “before or after I offered to suck your dick?” Bucky asks as he leans in. He mouths at the exposed pink head of Steve’s cock, making Steve’s knees go weak under him. 

“Twice before, mostly after,” Steve groans, doing his best to wash Bucky’s hair and not to just hold onto him while Bucky works him over. 

Bucky pulls back after a while and looks back up at him. “I thought about you too,” he says then presses a kiss to Steve’s thigh, “I wanted to call you that whole month,” he continues, kissing his thigh again, “couldn’t get you off my mind.” 

“Shit, Buck,” Steve says, “we make quite the pair.” 

Bucky lets out a laugh and shakes his head, “a matched set of lonely fools.” 

Steve smiles, helping Bucky up off his knees then leans in and kisses him, spinning them around and pulling back as Bucky rinses his hair.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

They spent the rest of the afternoon with a peaceful quiet air about them, not at all an awkward sort of silence, but a comfortable one that comes with knowin’ a person. He finished sanding the rest of the bench as Bucky sat in one of his partially completed rocking chairs, adding some finishing touches to his sketch. Steve was impressed with the level of detail Bucky managed to remember from that night seeing as how it wasn’t much more than a fog for him, but not as impressed as he was with the whole thing when Bucky showed it to him. It was really good, better than Steve could manage, that’s for sure. When they finished for the evening the two headed back to the house and Steve stuck it to the refrigerator door with a Coors magnet and soaked in the way Bucky’s ears turned a little pink around the edges as he smiled.

“You wanna help me with dinner?” Steve asks as they sit together on the swing hanging from the roof over Steve’s front porch. He tucks his hair behind his ear, brushing it back from where it had fallen into his face as they watched Chunk patrol the yard, scaring up flocks of birds from the thick bushes at the tree line every so often. 

“Sure,” Bucky smiles, “ain’t much of a cook though,” he says as he sits up and Steve moves his arm from around his shoulders. “Mom never bothered trying to teach me, guess she figured I’d get a wife someday who knew what she was doin’ and it wouldn’t matter or some bullshit like that.” 

“Traditional sort of folks, huh?” Steve asks as he stands, resting his hands on his hips as he stretches his back then yawns as he offers a hand to help Bucky up. It wouldn’t exactly surprise him, considering Bucky’s reluctance to go home over being gay, there had to be somethin’ there makin’ him think they wouldn’t except him back. 

Bucky lets out a laugh, “yeah, something like that.” His lack of a real answer piques Steve’s curiosity, he wants to ask about it but he figures now ain’t the time for pressing him. Instead, Bucky takes Steve’s hand and stands, straightening himself up with a sigh. The swing isn’t exactly the comfiest, it’s lack of cushions is not ideal for, well, for lack of a better word- snuggling on, but it works well enough. “What’s on the menu?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck. 

“You like sauerkraut?” Steve asks as he opens the screen door for him, “I picked up some sausages at the market, haven’t put ‘em in the freezer yet, we could have those?” 

“Sure,” Bucky says, walking into the living room as Steve waits, holding the door open for Chunk to trot through after them. “That sounds great, what do you want me to do?” 

“Think you can handle mashed potatoes?” Steve asks, nowhere better to start than the basics. Steve isn’t even close to a master chef, he’s barely even a good cook by his own account but he likes being able to show Bucky things. It makes him feel some sort of useful, teaching him things he seems interested in knowing, and Bucky’s more than eager to learn. 

“Seems pretty simple,” Bucky shrugs, “you just gotta boil ‘em, right?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Steve nods as Bucky takes a seat at the kitchen table. The two of them make quick work of peeling and chopping the potatoes and Steve sets Bucky up at the stove with a pot of water while he starts on the bacon. “How’s it going?” he asks as he steps up behind Bucky, sliding his arms around his waist, feeling the deep need to close to him. He presses a kiss to Bucky’s neck then rests his chin on his shoulder, watching the pot boil in front of them. 

“Pretty good so far,” Bucky smiles, turning his head to look at him. He rests his arms over Steve’s and Steve realizes just how badly he missed this, how much he was craving someone to be close to, just to hold. He convinced himself for so long that he didn’t want it, or more truthfully need it, that it wasn’t worth the effort. But now, holding Bucky like this, he doesn’t think he wants to let it go again, if he can help it. If it ain’t with Bucky, Steve will have to find another to fill this void within him after, but there’s no sense thinkin’ like that, not now. 

“I’m going to go put the rest of the sausages in the freezer and grab a bag of venison for tomorrow, think you can handle it?” he asks, hoping it doesn’t come across as condescending, he just doesn’t want to push Bucky out of his comfort zone. 

“Yeah,” Bucky laughs, “I can watch water boil.” 

“Okay,” Steve smiles as he kisses Bucky’s cheek then stands upright, letting his arms fall to his sides, missing the contact already. He leaves the room and by the time he’s heading back down the hallway to the kitchen, he hears Bucky call after him. 

“Hey, uh,” he says and Steve can hear the sound of water sizzling angrily on the stove as he rounds the corner to see the pot boiling over and Bucky trying to push it off the burner without burning his hands. “Help me, Steve, you’re my only hope,” he says, glancing over to Steve, “I don’t know where your pot holders are.” 

“It ain’t that big a deal, Buck,” Steve laughs, grabbing the pot holders off the top of the fridge, “here.” 

Bucky takes them from his hand and moves the pot, immediately the bubbles lower below the rim and Bucky looks at him with a smile, elbowing him gently in the arm. “You know,” he says, “like the movie.” 

“What movie?” Steve asks, shaking his head as he turns the bacon, sending little droplets of hot fat sizzling out onto the stove top. Bucky’s face drops to something between concern and confusion and Steve’s not sure what he said wrong. 

“Have you never seen Star Wars?” Bucky asks, his voice cautious. 

“No,” Steve shrugs, he didn’t know it was such a big deal. 

“What?” Bucky asks, shaking his head like he can’t believe what Steve just said, “how?” 

“I just wasn’t into that sort of thing,” Steve shrugs again, grabbing the sauerkraut from the refrigerator, “never really got into movies all that much.” He dumps some into the pan with the baon and stirs it around, coating it in hot bacon fat. “I wasn’t a fuckin’ nerd like you,” he laughs, looking over to Bucky, still standing next to the stove. Bucky punches him in the shoulder playfully and Steve laughs again. 

“Hey, that movie changed my life,” he says as Steve grabs the sausages and puts them into the pan. “Growing up, dealing with my dad and,” he waves his hand in the air, “struggling with being different and stuff, I could put that movie on and be in a whole other galaxy for a while, far away from everything.” 

Steve never really thought about it like that, he guesses they’ve both got their own ways of escaping. “Okay,” he nods, “I get it. I could give it a chance.” He gestures to the boiling pot of potatoes on the stove, “drain that in the sink and start mashing.” 

“I got a copy in my bag,” Bucky says over his shoulder, doing as he’s told as steam billows out from the sink around him. “I keep it on me, somethin’ familiar no matter where I end up.” He carries the pot back to the stove and sets it down. “A comfort, you know?” 

“Sure,” Steve nods, grabbing a few jars out of the cupboard above the stove, “we all need ‘em.” He adds salt and pepper with a generous amount of garlic and onion powder to the potatoes. “There’s milk in the fridge if you want to add it,” he says, gesturing toward the fridge as he grabs a fork and cuts off a slab of butter and adds it to the pot. 

Bucky dumps some milk in then takes the fork Steve hands him, he gets to work mashing as Steve cleans up a little. “You got a VCR in this place?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “there’s one on top of the TV in the bedroom.” 

“Wanna watch it after dinner?” Bucky asks, smiling over at him and Steve couldn’t say no to him if he wanted, not that he does of course. 

“Sure,” Steve smiles back, happy to be able to share such an important part of Bucky’s life with him, even if it wouldn’t interest him otherwise, “of course.” 

After dinner, they clean up and wash the dishes together, it’s become a habit for them. Just another way Bucky’s fallen into his routine perfectly, like he belongs, even if he’s done his part to disrupt it in other ways, not that Steve’s complaining though. Steve follows Bucky to his bedroom and sits on the edge of his bed as Bucky goes to put the movie in. He ejects the tape already in it and reads the title. “Really?” he asks, turning to look at Steve with a raised eyebrow. 

“Hey,” Steve huffs out a laugh as he shrugs, “it gets lonely out here and it does the trick.” 

“Okay,” Bucky nods, setting it on the TV stand, “guess we’ll have to watch that one next, huh?” 

“I don’t think you’d like it,” Steve says, reaching for the faded old cardboard cover sitting on the floor by his nightstand. A woman’s bare torso fills the space, full bush on display between two spread legs, censored only but the strategically placed movie title. “Not exactly your style.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, taking it from Steve’s hand and looking it over, “but it’s yours.” He looks back at Steve with a grin, “besides, it ain’t like I hate women or something, I think they’re beautiful,” he shrugs, “I can appreciate vintage pussy on an artistic level.” 

“Okay,” Steve smiles at the floor, shaking his head, wishing he hadn’t already worn out his favorite gay porn tape to the point of being unwatchable. “You want something to drink?” 

“Beer’s fine,” Bucky says, pushing his tape into the VCR, “you go get those, I’ll get the movie going, it’ll take a minute to rewind.” 

Steve comes back into the room, holding two bottles by their necks, to find Bucky laying back against his headboard in his boxers and a t-shirt and takes a moment to appreciate the sight. Bucky’s the only other person he’s ever had in this bed and he finds it hard to imagine it being empty without him again. He sets the bottles on the nightstand and strips out of his jeans to get comfortable. 

Bucky waits patiently as Steve presses play on the VCR before climbing into bed with him. “I think you’ll like it,” he says as Steve hands him one of the beers, “I hope so.” 

“I will,” Steve smiles over at him and Bucky leans over, resting his shoulder against Steve’s while the opening production logos play out. The words _‘a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…’_ fade in. The screen goes black, darkening the room and Steve feels Bucky take in a breath next to him. Suddenly, _‘Star Wars’_ appears in big yellow letters on the screen with a flourish of orchestral music and Steve looks over to Bucky. He can’t help but smile at the look of pure joy on Bucky’s face. 

Bucky must have felt Steve watching him, he turns to meet his eyes, “this is important,” he says as words scroll up the screen, “you have to pay attention.” 

“Sorry,” Steve smiles, turning back to the screen as he wraps an arm around Bucky’s shoulder. 

“That’s Leia,” Bucky says, nodding toward the woman in white on the screen, “the princess C-3PO mentioned,” he adds as if Steve has any idea who C-3PO is, “she’s the only one in the whole movie who knows what they’re doing.” 

“I like her,” Steve nods, taking a sip off his beer as he watches her stand her ground against the big guy in black Bucky says is named ‘Vader’ something. 

“She’s my favorite,” Bucky nods, not taking his eyes off the screen. 

“I can see why,” Steve says and Bucky looks over to him then, with a smile. 

“That’s Tatooine,” Bucky says later as the two robots walk through an endless sea of sand. 

“What?” Steve asks, finding it hard to remember all the weird names Bucky keeps telling him, he can barely keep any of them straight except Leia. 

“Tattoo-ine,” Bucky repeats, slower that time, “it’s where Luke lives.” 

“Who’s Luke?” Steve asks. 

“You’ll see,” Bucky smiles toward the screen. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve smiles, gesturing with his beer at the screen as the gold robot bickers with the little one, “that one sounds just like you.” 

“3PO?” Bucky asks, looking over at him with his eyebrows pulled tight in offence. “Wow, okay,” he huffs out a laugh. 

“Nah, I’m kidding,” Steve laughs, taking another sip. They’re both quiet for a moment before Steve adds, “you’re worse.” 

Bucky ribs him with his elbow, not enough to hurt but it makes Steve spit some of his beer out as he laughs. “Yeah, well,” Bucky snorts, “you know who Jabba the Hutt is?” 

“No,” Steve shakes his head, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“Just wait, he’s exactly like you,” Bucky says, looking Steve over with a smile. They sit quietly watching the screen after that, until the big rolling dumpster parks at the little desert igloo. “That’s Luke,” Bucky says as two men appear on the screen, one younger and one older. He’s referring to the younger one, Steve gathers, based on the woman calling his name. After a bit, he gets his first good look at Luke’s face and can’t believe what he sees. 

“Buck,” he says, staring at the screen, “he looks just like you.” 

“What?” Bucky asks, shaking his head, “no, come on.” 

Steve studies Luke’s features, as he talks to the older man, his big blue eyes, dimpled chin, angular nose, he’s even got the same down turned, kissable, pouty lips. He’s a dead ringer. 

“He’s kinda like you only hotter and blonde,” Steve says, smiling against the mouth of his beer. 

“Shut up,” Bucky laughs, “come on, man.” 

“He’s got nothin’ on you,” Steve says, shaking his head, “but you do look a lot alike.” 

“Seriously though,” Bucky says, “I always related to him the most.” He takes a sip of his beer, “wanting to escape to space, wanting to be a part of something bigger but having to stick around and do what your family says to do.” 

“Does he get away?” Steve asks. 

“Yeah,” Bucky smiles, “he’s the hero, he saves the whole galaxy.” 

“Well, I guess he really is like you,” Steve says and cringes at his own cheesiness, expecting Bucky to laugh at him. Instead, Bucky presses a gentle kiss to his shoulder and tucks in against him, so Steve pulls him closer and rests his cheek against Bucky’s hair. 

“Oh shit,” he says as Luke finds his aunt and uncle’s fried bodies. 

“Pretty bad, right?” Bucky asks without lifting his head. 

“Damn, I didn’t see that coming,” Steve says as he takes another sip. “He’s just going to run away with that old man now?” 

“What,” Bucky says, looking at him, “like that’s so bad?” he smiles and it takes a moment before Steve gets it, then he laughs. 

“Shut up,” he smiles, “I ain’t that old.” 

“Here comes Han Solo,” Bucky says, turning back to the screen, “I had the biggest crush on him growing up, even before I realized I was gay. 

“That guy?” Steve asks as an actor he vaguely recognizes slides onto screen. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, “that’s the guy.” 

“He seems like kind of a dick,” Steve says as he watches him interact with Luke and the old man. 

“Huh,” Bucky laughs, “it’s almost like I have a type.” 

There’s still a little twinge of guilt left in Steve over how he treated Bucky those first few meetings, he didn’t deserve to be talked to like that or even more so, used like that. He’ll spend the rest of who knows how long bein’ grateful Bucky gave him another chance after that. “Yeah,” Steve shrugs, “I mean, you’ve got a point,” he huffs out a laugh. 

“He comes off like that in the beginning, but he’s a good guy deep down,” Bucky says, looking up at him with a smile. Steve swallows, a soft smile spreading on his lips to match Bucky’s as he looks him over. He didn’t have to let Steve into his life that morning in the rain, but he guesses Bucky must have seen something in him worth likin’, despite Steve’s best efforts. He just wants to prove to Bucky he was right in takin’ a chance on him. 

“Yeah?” Steve asks, leaning down to press his lips to Bucky’s smile. 

Bucky kisses him back, soft and gentle, until he pulls back, “yeah,” he smiles at him again. They watch the rest of the movie and as the credits roll, Bucky sits up and turns to him, “so?” 

“It was good,” Steve smiles, “I liked it, now I get what all the hype was about.” He remembers the summer it came out, it was all anyone was talking about and how he managed to miss it is beyond him. 

“I can’t believe you could have seen it in theaters and you didn’t,” Bucky shakes his head, “I was five when it came out.” 

“I kind of regret it now,” Steve shrugs, it could have been a lot of fun to be into as a kid. 

“There’s two more,” Bucky says, “I’ve only got this one with me though, we’d have to rent the others, if you want to.” 

“Sure,” Steve smiles, “of course.” 

“So what did you think?” Bucky asks again, clearly wanting more of an answer. It’s cute, seeing him like this, so excited about something, so Steve does his best to satisfy him. 

“The space stuff was really cool,” Steve nods, “I think Han and Luke had a lot of chemistry, there might be somethin’ going on there between them behind closed doors. But I gotta admit, I’m kind of rooting for Luke and Leia.” 

Bucky lets out a laugh, “just wait until you see the other movies before you make up your mind.” 

“Why?” Steve asks, genuinely curious. 

“Just trust me,” Bucky laughs. He downs the rest of his beer and hands the empty bottle to Steve to set on the nightstand. “You up for that other movie?” he asks, looking him over. 

Steve stretches, scratching his hand against his stomach then slides it into his boxers. “Yeah,” he says as he palms himself gently, “I think so, if you want to.” He withdraws his hand and climbs off the bed. “Can I jerk you off?” he asks as he ejects Star Wars and slides the porn tape back in. 

“If that’s what you want to do,” Bucky says behind him, “sure.” 

“Do you not want me to?” Steve asks, turning around in time to see Bucky pulling his boxers down his legs. 

“No, I just,” he shrugs, tossing them onto the floor with the rest of their discarded clothes, “figured you’d want me to blow you or fuck again or somethin’.” 

“That’s all fine with me,” Steve says as he climbs back onto the bed, “but I want to focus on you and since I can’t go down on you, jerkin’ you off’s the only option I got,” he pauses, “unless you want me to finger you instead.” He huffs out a laugh, “I haven’t fingered someone during a movie since high school.” 

“No,” Bucky laughs, “a hand job’s fine.” The movie starts and Bucky lays back as Steve grabs the lube off his nightstand and settles down next to him. “Haven’t had one in a while anyway,” he adds. 

“Not much in the line of people paying to jerk someone off, huh?” Steve asks, dripping lube into his hand as the opening scene plays out. 

“No,” Bucky laughs, as Steve clicks the top shut again and throws it onto the bed at their feet, “not really.” 

“Good,” he says, leaning up to catch Bucky’s mouth with his own. 

* * *

They spend the next night out in the bed of Steve’s truck again, resting together comfortably in a nest of blankets. It’s nice out, warm enough to not be freezing but cold enough to still need the blankets, it’s clear as can be too, not a single cloud in the sky. “You ever been with another man before?” Bucky asks, breaking the comfortable silence between them. 

“Me and my best friend in high school used to jerk each other off sometimes, just for somethin’ to do.” Steve admits, it’d been a long time since he thought about Sam. 

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, “were there any feelings there?” 

“Sure, I guess,” Steve shrugs, on his end anyway, “but I was dating my ex and didn’t really realize until later that me and him coulda had something if he was interested too.” 

“Do you still talk to him?” Bucky asks. 

“No,” Steve huffs out a laugh, “he moved away after we graduated, we lost contact after that,” he pauses, “he was a good guy, he’s probably out there savin’ the world somehow now.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, “I don’t talk to any of my old friends either.” 

They fall silent again, both staring up at the stars and Steve follows a satellite slowly making its way across the sky as he thinks back on those long gone days. “He fucked me once after one of his baseball games, just before graduation,” he says, “while me and my ex were on a break.” 

“Really?” Bucky asks, sitting up and looking at him in surprise, “what happened to you’ve never done anal with a man?” 

“I never fucked a guy before,” Steve says, “you weren’t askin’ if I took it before, besides, I only did it the one time.” 

“Did you like it?” Bucky asks and Steve never really put much thought to it, seein’ as it never came up in his life again until now. 

“We were drunk,” Steve shrugs, “I don’t really remember much of it except that it was quick,” he pauses, “but I liked bein’ close to him like that.” 

“Would you try it again?” Bucky asks. 

“With you?” Steve adjusts his position, turning onto his side a little bit to see Bucky better. 

“I just meant at all, but yeah,” Bucky laughs, “with me.” 

“Sure,” Steve smiles, “maybe sometime.” Nothing about the thought of having Bucky inside him like that sounds bad, in fact it sounds real fuckin’ nice if he’s being honest. 

“Alright,” Bucky smiles back, “it ain’t gonna be quick though, and you’ll remember it,” he adds. 

“You promisin?” Steve huffs out a laugh as he reaches down to adjust himself, his body responding to Bucky’s offer, “or is that a threat?” 

“I’m just sayin’ I’ll treat your ass right,” Bucky laughs, “respectfully of course.” 

“Shit, Buck,” Steve licks his lips, “you sure know how to make a guy blush.” 

“You got no idea, pal,” Bucky says as he settles back down next to him, making Steve’s stomach flutter. “And for the record, Steve,” he adds, “I think he was interested too.” 

Steve clears his throat. “Tell me about the stars,” he says, pulling Bucky closer to get his mind off it, not wanting to dwell on the past. 

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, looking back up at him with a smile. 

“Yeah,” Steve smiles back, “teach me somethin’.” 

“Okay,” Bucky says, pointing up that the sea of stars above them, “that's Virgo, the virgin.” Steve follows the line of Bucky’s hand up to the sky, searching for the stars of that constellation. “See that big star right there?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, pointing at the sky, “that one?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, looking over with a smile, “that’s her hand, if you follow it up that way,” he moves his hand, “that’s her head, down there is her legs.” 

“Huh,” Steve says, squinting as he tries to make out the shape, “I think I see it.” 

“She’s made up of a bunch of different galaxies,” Bucky says, “even a quasar.” 

“What’s a quasar?” Steve asks. 

“They’re these mysterious things way out in deep space,” he says as Steve watches him watching the stars, he can’t get enough of him. “They shoot out these massive beams of energy and people think they contain black holes.” 

“Shit,” Steve says, looking up at the sky, “that’s crazy.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky laughs as he looks at him again, “space is crazy.” Still smiling, he leans over and kisses Steve sofly, just a gentle press of his lips to Steve’s then he pulls back. He settles back down and pulls the blanket higher to his chest. 

“Down there by her hand,” Bucky points again, “that’s Corvus, the raven.” Steve nods, doing his best to make out the group of stars Bucky’s pointing to. “There’s a pair of galaxies there,” Bucky says, “they’re colliding.” He turns to look at Steve again, “isn’t it wild that out of all that infinite space, there’s even the smallest possibilities two whole galaxies could meet each other like that?” 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “kind of makes you wonder about fate.” 

“Do you believe things happen for a reason?” Bucky asks. 

“I never gave it much thought, I guess,” Steve says, turning to look at Bucky, “but I do now.” 

At that, Bucky leans up, catching Steve’s mouth again. Steve closes his eyes, cupping Bucky’s head, holding him close as they kiss. There’s gotta be something that brought Bucky into that tiny town, into that restaurant out of all the others on the few days Steve was in town. Somethin’ that made Bucky want to talk to him out of everyone else that day. Whatever it is, fate or not, Steve’s sure grateful for it. As they kiss with stars shining above them, Bucky moves his hand down Steve’s body beneath their shared blanket. He rests his hand on Steve’s cock, cupping it gently through his sweats and Steve hums into his mouth. He rubs him softly, just enough to feel nice as Steve rolls his hips up against Bucky’s palm. 

Bucky pulls back, breaking their kiss. “You keep sayin’ things like that,” he breathes out against Steve’s jaw, “and I’m gonna fall for you, Rogers.” 

Steve swallows hard against the tightness in his throat. In one fluid motion, he rolls Bucky onto his back, settling between his legs as he leans down to kiss him again. “You promise?” he asks, kissing down Bucky’s neck as he rolls his hips against him. 

“Mm-hmm,” Bucky nods, licking his lips. 

Steve pushes his sweats down under his ass, exposing his cock to the cold air, and settles back over Bucky. He wraps his legs around Steve’s hips, holding him against him as Steve rubs their cocks together, separated only by the thin fabric of Bucky’s worn sweatpants. 

Steve, desperate to feel Bucky’s skin hot against his own, closes his eyes tight as he moves his hips. His body shivers as Bucky runs his hands through his hair, breathing out against Steve’s cheek. He moans softly as they move together, digging his fingers into Steve’s shoulders as he holds on tight.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve gets out of bed and grabs his clothes from the day before off the floor, leaving the warmth of Bucky’s embrace behind. The early morning sun shines bright through the cracks in the curtains, casting streaks of light across the bed where Bucky lays, watching him with his head resting on his arm, tucked under his pillow. Specks of dust sparkle around them like glitter floating in the still air, a perfect morning to be sure. He finds himself noticing little things like that now, the sort of things he wouldn’t have given a second thought to before. Beautiful little details that being with Bucky, havin’ someone to be close to, just sort brings out in life.

“That guy should be here any minute,” Steve says, pulling his jeans up his bare legs, not bothering with boxers, “he seems pretty interested.” 

“He’ll love it,” Bucky says as he reaches out to take hold of Steve’s hand, “you did a great job.” 

The praise fills him with a warm sort of feeling as he looks down at Bucky in his bed. His support means the world to Steve and Bucky couldn’t be more generous with it. “Thanks,” Steve smiles as he leans down and pulls Bucky into a slow kiss. When he pulls back he rests his forehead against Bucky’s for a moment, “wish me luck.” 

“Good luck,” Bucky smiles back at him as he stands again, “want me to start breakfast?” 

“Sure,” Steve turns back to him, breakfast sounds good but Steve’s got another idea, “or you can wait right here for me, just like this.” Bare body wrapped in his old sheets, soft skin warmed from sleep, a perfect scene. Steve climbs back onto the bed and kisses Bucky again, unable to pull himself away and Bucky welcomes him with open arms. He hums against Steve’s mouth, laying back as Steve settles over him, running his hands through Steve’s hair, holding him against him as they kiss. Ignoring his responsibilities, Steve slides is hand down Bucky’s chest and slips it under the sheet. 

Bucky breaks their kiss with a sigh as Steve rubs his hand against him. “You should go,” he says against Steve’s lips, “you don’t want to keep him waiting.” 

Steve closes his eyes, resting his forehead against Bucky’s again and sighs. “Right,” he says, reluctantly pulling his hand away from the enticing warmth of Bucky’s soft cock against his palm. He should have told the guy to come tomorrow, how’s he supposed to concentrate on business when he’s got this waitin’ for him. 

“I’ll be right here when you get back,” Bucky smiles and Steve nods. He climbs back off the bed pulls the rest of his clothes on. At the door, he turns to give Bucky one last look before he walks out of the room. 

The client ends up buying the sculpture and Steve helps him load it into his trailer, it takes a little longer than he would have liked but he’s glad to have the money. Back in the house, he puts the cash in his lockbox and peels off his flannel and t-shirt, discarding them on the floor as he makes his way down the hallway to his room. Bucky is right where he said he’d be, laying on his stomach with the sheets pulled to the side, his beautiful body on full display now. Steve’s chest swells as Bucky turns his head back to look at him with a smile. 

“How’d it go?” he asks as Steve unbottons his jeans behind him. 

“He bought it,” Steve says, pulling them off his legs before climbing onto the bed and settling over Bucky’s back. He peppers slow, gentle kisses across Bucky’s jaw, down his neck to his shoulder as he slides a hand down Bucky’s ass and slips his fingers between Bucky’s cheeks. To his surprise he finds him relaxed and already slick with lube. 

“You in a rush or somethin’?” Steve asks against Bucky’s shoulder as he slides his fingers easily in and out of him, “we got all the time in the world, baby.” 

“We can’t spend all day in bed,” Bucky says over his shoulder, closing his eyes as Steve moves his fingers in him. 

“You’re right,” Steve says, slipping his fingers out of him, the air in the room cool against his slick skin. As much as he’d like to spend all day here with Bucky beneath him, Bucky’s right, he’s got work to do but it can wait a little while longer at least. Steve grabs one of the condoms off the nightstand and rolls it on as Bucky waits. “There’s still the sofa, the kitchen counter, the garden.” He slides his cock into Bucky easily, letting out a sigh as the welcoming heat of his body envelopes him fully, with only the barest resistance. 

“You wanna do me on the kitchen counter?” Bucky asks sleepily as Steve barely rolls his hips, keeping himself deep. 

“I wanna do you everywhere,” Steve admits, pressing another kiss to Bucky’s shoulder. By far, the best sex he’s ever had has been with Bucky. He’s not sure how much of that’s up to him bein’ a professional or if it’s something more, something deeper, like a connection he never had with the others. 

Bucky smiles against his arm, savoring the feeling of Steve inside him, so full and barely moving. “I shoulda kept charging you,” he says, “I could make a killing.” 

“As long as you stuck around after,” Steve says, moving his hips back for longer strokes now, making Bucky hum softly, “I’d give you everything I have.” 

Bucky turns to look at him over his shoulder at that and Steve stills his movement. “You mean it?” he asks. 

Steve swallows thickly, his throat suddenly tight as he looks down at Bucky’s shining baby blues. It’s as if all the pieces of his puzzle are finally in the right places and his life is in focus for the first time. “Yeah,” he says, his voice catches in his throat as he nods, “yeah, I do.” 

At that, Bucky moves to turn over and Steve slips out of him, making room as he settles down on his back below him. He wraps his arms around Steve’s neck and pulls him down to his lips. Steve opens up to him, he feels raw and exposed, vulnerable in a way he never wanted to be, it’s almost too much. Bucky kisses him like a promise until he pulls back and rests his hands on either side of Steve’s face. Steve can feel his eyes on him, watching him closely, not sure if he can look at Bucky and keep himself together. “I’ll stick around as long as you want me,” Bucky says softly as he rubs the pad of his thumb against Steve’s cheek. 

At that, Steve takes hold of Bucky’s hand and brings it to his lips, pulling his eyebrows tight as he kisses Bucky’s palm. “Do you mean it?” he asks, mirroring Bucky’s question as his stomach twists, praying Bucky says the words he needs to hear. 

“Of course I do.” 

Steve’s heart jumps in his chest, filling him with a symphony of emotions he’s not quite sure what to do with, so he catches Bucky’s lips again while Bucky wraps his legs around his waist. Craving the intimate closeness, he reaches down to line himself up and slides back into him. He stays still, savoring the feeling of just being inside Bucky as he kisses him, deep and hungry. Bucky’s under his skin, somehow he broke down his walls and carved out a home for himself in Steve’s ribs, there’s no way he could pull him out now if he wanted. He’s there for good, as much a part of him as his own heart. Steve needs him like air, he was suffocating before, slowly dying alone under the weight of his own insecurities until Bucky breathed new life into him. Brought him back from the brink like an oasis and Steve’s never been more thirsty in his life. 

“Shit,” he breathes out against Bucky’s skin as he kisses along Bucky’s jaw, “I do believe I’ve fallen for you, James Barnes.” He stills as Bucky runs his fingers through his hair. 

Bucky makes a small, almost choked off noise and Steve leans up on his elbow to look down at him. “Steve,” he says and the look on his face breaks Steve’s heart, “you can’t just say stuff like this and not be serious,” he continues then swallows. “Don’t break my heart,” his voice breaks, “please.” 

“I’m serious, Buck,” Steve smiles softly down at him, “about all of it.” 

Bucky wraps his hand around the back of Steve’s neck, pulling him to his lips again, resting his other hand on his cheek. Steve moves then, pulling back and sliding in again gently, earning a moan against his mouth. He loses himself in Bucky, unsure how much time has passed as he moves in him, surrounded by his body wrapped around him. Pushing himself nearly to the edge, he pulls back, slowing his movements again and again, trying to savor this as long as he can. 

“Want you to fill me up so bad, wanna feel you,” Bucky pants, catching Steve’s attention. 

“Soon,” he breathes out against Bucky’s neck. “I’ll even eat you out after,” he groans, “clean my mess right outta you.” 

“Fuck, Steve,” Bucky moans, running his fingers through Steve’s hair, holding him tight against him, “want it so bad.” 

“Me too, baby,” Steve says as he lifts his head to catch Bucky’s lips, slow and uncoordinated as his pace falters. 

“Are you close?” Bucky asks against Steve’s lips, his eyes shut tight. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “fuck.” 

“Slow down,” Bucky pants, “don’t come yet.” 

Steve groans, going against everything his body wants. He does as he’s told and stills his hips, inches from the edge. “Shit, Buck,” he says, shaking the fallen hair out of his eyes, “I don’t know if I can.” He reaches down to squeeze his fingers around the base of his cock, attempting to hold himself back. 

“Pull out,” Bucky says, pushing at Steve’s shoulders. “Come in my mouth,” he breathes out, looking up at Steve. He looks absolutely wrecked and Steve has to fight himself not to finish right there. 

Steve nods, pulling his cock free as he sits up. Beneath him, Bucky adjusts his position as Steve yanks the condom off and tosses it onto the floor without care. He climbs up Bucky’s body, settling on his chest and Bucky nods, giving him the go-ahead so he takes himself in hand and guides himself into Bucky’s waiting mouth. He closes his lips around him and Steve starts to move his hips, holding onto the headboard for support. Bucky’s breathtaking like this, his pleasure written so clearly in his expression, cheeks flushed hot and eyes dark and heavy. 

Steve’s own eyes fall shut, Bucky’s mouth making it impossible to keep watching no matter how bad he wants to. 

It doesn’t take long until his body goes tight and his hips stutter, his cock jumping as it pulses down Bucky’s throat while Bucky hums around it. Not wanting to choke him, he pulls out quick, panting as his spent cock rests wet against Bucky’s cheek. Steve opens his eyes, his vision blurred as he watches Bucky turn his head to press soft kisses against his sensitive skin. His grip tightens on the wood, catching his breath as Bucky reaches up, holding his cock against his mouth as he licks up the length, working him over with wet, open mouth kisses. After a moment, he takes the swollen head back into his mouth, sucking gently, making Steve’s body jump painfully as he whimpers at the sensation. 

Steve wants to return the favor, wants to make Bucky feel even half as good as he made him. He moves, climbing off Bucky’s chest then settles down next to him on the bed. “I wanna suck you, too,” he says as he leans down for a kiss. Bucky meets him halfway, pulling him to him as Steve licks the taste of himself from his mouth. “We can use a condom,” he says against Bucky’s lips, “I don’t care, I just need to.” 

Bucky nods, reaching over to the nightstand, he blindly feels around until he finds one of the condoms waiting there. “Here,” he says, breaking their kiss as he hands it to Steve, “it ain’t the same-” 

“I don’t care,” Steve repeats, taking it from Bucky’s hand, he just needs his mouth on him, he doesn’t matter how. He pulls the condom out of the package and pinches the tip as he carefully rolls it onto Bucky’s waiting cock. “Is that good?” he asks, stroking him gently. 

Bucky nods, looking down at his hand, “yeah,” he bites his lip as Steve leans down. 

Steve takes him into his mouth, the taste of latex and lube on his tongue when it should be Bucky’s skin. It’s an odd sensation, having his mouth full like this, one he’s not used to seeing as how this is the first dick he’s tried sucking. But he hums around him, drawing a whimper from Bucky as he takes him deeper, the head of Bucky’s cock pressing against the back of his throat. He does his best to relax, to take Bucky deeper but it triggers his gag reflex and his mouth starts watering uncontrollably. He pulls back, focusing on the head of it instead as he strokes Bucky’s length with his hand. So he’ll need a little more practice before he’ll be able to take Bucky the whole way, no one’s perfect on their first try. Either way, he really doesn’t think Bucky would mind letting him get some practice in. 

“Shit, Steve,” Bucky breathes out, running his hands through Steve’s hair as Steve takes him as far as he can then pulls back. Bucky’s cock slips from between his lips with a wet pop as Steve looks up at him. 

“Is it okay?” he asks, swallowing the excess spit in his mouth. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, “yeah, it’s good,” and Steve smiles as he gets his mouth on him again. 

Bucky runs his hands through his hair, gripping tighter when Steve does something that makes him let out a breathy moan. He works him over in a slow, gentle rhythm as Bucky’s hips rock, pushing cock through the steady grip of Steve’s hand. Soon, his rhythm starts to break, toes curling against the sheets as his fingers dig into Steve’s scalp. Steve hums around him, eyes watering, trying not to gag as Bucky holds him down, whimpering as his hips shutter. He can feel Bucky’s cock pulsing against his tongue and he wishes he could taste him, swallow him down as he comes. 

Bucky collapses back against the mattress and wipes his damp hair out of his eyes with his arm as Steve pulls off him. “So you got a big crush on me, huh?” Bucky lets out a breathy laugh, panting as he catches his breath. 

“Yeah,” Steve laughs, wiping his mouth on his arm as he lays down next to him, “looks like.” 

Bucky sighs then laughs again as he rests his hand on Steve’s stomach, scratching his fingers through the hair there. “That’s okay,” Bucky says, leaning up on his elbow, “I got one on you too,” he adds, hovering just above Steve until Steve kisses him softly, smiling against each other’s lips. Steve doesn’t think hearing it will ever get old. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up,” Bucky says after a few minutes, patting Steve’s stomach gently. 

“‘Kay,” Steve nods, laying his head back against his pillow. His body sated and just this side of exhausted, he closes his heavy lids as he listens to the sound of the shower starting in the next room. He means to get up and join him, he really does, but when he comes to again, Bucky’s climbing back into bed beside him. His skin warmed from the hot water and soft against his own as he presses his body against him. 

“Wore you out, huh?” Bucky asks, pressing a kiss to Steve’s chest as he runs his fingers through the hair on Steve’s stomach. 

“Yeah,” Steve huffs out a laugh, his eyes still closed as he moves his hand to rest it on Bucky’s skin only to find the soft fabric of his boxers instead, “guess so.” They fall silent, content in each other’s company. “Hey,” Steve says after a few quiet moments, “I’ve been thinking,” he turns over to face Bucky and props his head up on his arm, “I wanted this to be a surprise but I want you to have time to decide what you want to get-” Bucky’s eyebrows pull together as Steve continues, taking Bucky’s hand in his. “I want to take you into town, get that tattoo of yours covered up if you want to.” With the extra cash he made off the horse sculpture, he’ll finally be able to make good on his plan. 

Bucky’s lips curl into a soft smile at that, “I’d really like that,” he says. “Seein’ that thing on my arm everyday,” he pauses, covering it with his hand briefly, “just a constant reminder of my failures, of that-” he huffs out a breath, “that night in the closet.” Steve squeezes Bucky’s hand as he continues, “I used to think of it as a curse, that I ruined my life that night,” he pauses again, “that my life was ruined,” he corrects himself as he laces his fingers between Steve’s. “But I guess it was a blessing in disguise all along, just took a while to get there.” 

“You didn’t belong there, shoulda never been there in the first place, and your parents should have seen that. They should have never pressured you to go,” Steve says, brushing his thumb against the back of Bucky’s hand. 

“I know, you’re right,” Bucky nods, “but boy it sure hurt for a long time.” He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. 

“You got a chance at a new beginning here, Buck,” Steve says, “none of that matters. You could go to school,” he smiles, “study stars. You got your whole life ahead of ya, darlin’. The past don’t define you.” 

“Thanks,” Bucky smiles, meeting his eyes, “you’re too good to me.” 

“I ain’t too good to you,” Steve shakes his head, “you deserve the world.” Bucky leans in at that, pressing his lips to Steve’s softly, then pulls back. “Now you just need to figure out what you want to get and we’ll go get it,” Steve continues. 

“I know exactly what I want,” Bucky smiles, laying back against his pillow. 

“You gonna tell me?” Steve asks, “or do I have to guess.” 

“I want it to be a surprise,” Bucky says, “so you’ll just have to wait and see.” 

“Aright,” Steve smiles, “I’ll call and get an appointment today.” 

“Come on,” Bucky says as he sits up, “go get cleaned up, I’ll make coffee.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter includes some brief/vague mentions of HIV fear/anxiety, heads up

Out in his shop, Steve stands, leaning against his work bench as he sips his coffee. Lost in his thoughts as he looks his wooden bench project over, remembering the morning they spent on it together.

“What color are you going to stain it?” Bucky asks, stepping up beside him. 

“I think I’m just going to varnish it,” Steve says as he turns to look at Bucky, “what do you think?” 

“Just a clear coat?” Bucky asks, “I think that’ll look good, I like the color it is.” 

Steve nods with a smile, “okay.” He turns back to the bench and takes another sip, “I’m also thinkin’ about keepin’ it, just for us. Can’t rightly sell it knowing what we did on it.” 

Bucky huffs out a laugh against the rim of his coffee mug, “the _’Our First Time Memorial Bench’_,” he says, looking at Steve with a grin, “I like it.” 

Steve shrugs as he laughs, “yeah, somethin’ like that.” He never thought of himself as the sentimental type, but he can’t imagine selling it now, figures it ought to have a place somewhere nice, on the porch next to the front door or somethin’. Somewhere he can see it everyday and remember just how happy he was in that moment, as sappy as that is. He takes another sip, deciding to change the subject before he says something embarrassing. “I got us a spot today at five, they said they’re pretty open for the day. Not many folks lookin’ to get tattoos I guess.” 

“You wanna go early?” Bucky asks, “maybe get some food? I gotta go to the market anyway to stock up on a few things. We’re gonna burn through my supply in no time at the rate we’re goin’.” 

“You wanna slow down?” Steve asks, trying to conceal his smile by taking another sip. 

“Not a chance,” Bucky smiles back. 

“Me neither,” Steve admits. 

“Speakin’ of though,” Bucky says, turning to him, “we need to talk about my job.” He sets his mug down on the counter and Steve feels his stomach pull tight with nerves. “More specifically if I’m gonna quit or not.” 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, figurin’ it’s Bucky’s decision and his alone, no matter Steve’s thoughts on the subject. “What do you think?” He’ll stick by Bucky regardless of whether he’s sleeping with others or not, as long he’s the one Bucky’s comin’ home to. 

“Well,” Bucky lets out a breath, “I guess what I’m askin’ is whether you’re willing to stick around with me if those tests come back positive,” he pauses, “there’s a chance I could have somethin’ real bad, Steve.” 

Steve swallows as he looks down at the floor, he managed to keep it off his mind mostly, too wrapped up in the fresh feelings of all of this to give it much thought. He’s always known the risk only he guesses it never really felt all that real, but now that Bucky brings it up, his heart sinks. The thought of losing Bucky tears him up inside, but whatever those tests say, Steve’s in it for the long run now. 

Bucky continues, “I don’t want to put you in danger-” 

“I know why you’re askin’” Steve says, he watched his mom’s friends quietly abandon her one by one as she got worse. He knows why they did it, it’s hard for most folks, watchin’ someone go through that but he can’t help but hold anger in his heart toward them anyway. “Kickin’ you to the curb when you would be needin’ someone most would be a pretty rotten thing to do, even if I didn’t feel for you the way I do,” he adds, as his stomach twists. 

“I gotta know,” Bucky says, “it ain’t personal, I just gotta know.” 

“I’m not leavin’ you, Buck,” Steve says, “no matter what happens.” He turns to Bucky and rests a hand on his shoulder, deciding to let Bucky know how he feels after all, “and on the subject of your job, I’d sure like to be your one and only if you’ll be mine.” 

“Alright,” Bucky says, smiling softly now as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, “I ain’t leavin’ you either.” 

* * *

They don’t get as early a start as they planned, only having time for a stop at the retro drive-thru in town Steve hadn’t been to in years. He said he wanted a milkshake and that place made the best ones in town. Steve was happy to oblige, havin’ no ground to stand on for an argument. They ordered a pair of blackberry ones on Bucky’s suggestion and Steve was happy to learn Bucky wasn’t wrong, they were the best goddamn milkshakes he can remember havin’. 

At the tattoo shop, Steve waits in the parlor, flipping through books of art and admiring the flash on the walls. From what he sees, he figures Bucky’s in good hands and hopes they do right by him, give him something he can be proud of and not want to hide anytime someone brings it up. It takes a couple of hours, while Steve’s got no idea how long they usually take, he figures he must be getting something more detailed than the old school lookin’ stuff in the books. He starts to get anxious after the hour mark, wishin’ he was back there with him, but on Bucky’s insistence he stays put. 

“What do you think?” Bucky grins, pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt as he rounds the corner. Beneath the plastic wrap and streaks blood pooling in the folds, Steve makes out a patch of flowers in shades of purple and pink that he recognizes immediately, the same bitterroot flowers that litter his yard. “Frank says they’re Montana’s state flower,” Bucky smiles, “and that their scientific name comes from their ability to come back from seemingly dead and dry roots, ain’t that somethin’?” 

“He know all that off the top of his head?” Steve asks, looking at the tattoo closely. 

“They’ve got a book,” Bucky says, “got all kinds of flowers in it.” Out of all the flowers he could have chosen, bitterroot feel like an odd choice. Most folks get roses or the like but something about these must have spoken to Bucky in someway. 

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve says, standing straight again, “they’re beautiful.” 

“You said new beginnings, right?” Bucky asks, “seemed fitting.” 

“What made you pick them in the first place?” Steve asks, looking at Bucky. 

“Well,” Bucky says, grabbing his denim jacket from Steve’s arms, “I figure they’ll always remind me of you,” he shrugs, heading for the door. “I wanna remember you,” he continues as they walk down the sidewalk, “no matter what happens.” 

“Buck, I told you I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Steve says, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder. They’ve been over this, he doesn’t know how much more clear he can be. 

“Things happen, people change and I ain’t so naive to think we’re gonna live happily ever after forever, no matter what you say,” Bucky says, letting out a breath as he looks down at the road, avoiding Steve’s eyes. 

“Who says we can’t?” Steve asks, resting a hand on his cheek to get him to look at him, “I’m willing to try if you are.” 

“I guess it ain’t so much you leavin’ I’m worried about,” Bucky swallows, meeting his eyes finally, “I’m scared, Steve.” 

“Scared of what,” Steve asks, dropping his hand to his side, “of those tests?” 

“I guess the stakes just never felt real before,” Bucky says, blinking as he looks up at the sky. There’s a sinking feeling his chest as Steve’s heart breaks for him. “I always figured nothin’ bad would ever happen, I’m careful.” 

“What makes you think now’s any different?” Steve asks, taking Bucky’s hand in his own, doing his best to comfort him, to ease his worry. 

“Accidents happen, no matter how careful you are,” Bucky says, “there’s always a risk, I guess I just never felt like I had somethin’ to lose.” He wipes his nose on his jacket draped over his arm, “I already lost my family, I got no other friends-” 

“You didn’t lose your family, Buck, they’re out there waitin’ for you to come home,” Steve insists, cutting him off. 

“As far as we know,” Bucky says as he pulls away from Steve and starts walking toward the pickup, “haven’t talked to them in six years, I don’t know if they’re even still around.” The thought that maybe Bucky didn’t have anyone left to come home to never crossed his mind, and it hits him hard. He wants to wrap Bucky in his arms, assure him he’s going to be alright, that they’re going to come out the other side just fine but there’s no way of knowing and it crushes him. 

“You know there’s only one way to find out, right?” Steve asks, following after him, “you gotta call them.” 

“I know,” Bucky groans, “I know, I just-” he sighs, “I know.” They reach the truck in silence and climb in their respective sides and Bucky rests his head against the window. “I just haven’t been this happy in a long time,” he says, “I don’t want to lose this feeling.” 

“Hey,” Steve says, running his hand through Bucky’s curls, brushing them back away from his forehead, “we got a couple more months to make the most of it at least, right? We just gotta keep bein’ careful.” He reaches over, wrapping his arm around Bucky and pulling him toward him. Bucky follows his lead, scooting across the bench seat to sit close to him, “so let’s make the most of it.” There’s no way he’s not going to do his best to make sure Bucky’s happy, that he’s taken care of and that he knows just how much he means to Steve. 

Bucky wipes his eyes on the back of his hand. “Yeah,” he nods, sniffing back his running nose, “you’re right.” 

“You still wanna hit the store or you want to just head home? We can come back another day,” Steve asks as he starts the engine, “I don’t mind comin’ back.” 

“No,” Bucky shakes his head as he wipes his eyes, “no, we can go now, it’s okay.” 

“Okay,” Steve nods, “what do you say we rent those other Star Wars movies?” he asks, “we can get cozy and watch ‘em, get your mind off of things.” 

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, a soft smile on his lips that melts through Steve. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, squeezing Bucky's shoulder, “any snacks or anything you want?” 

“I got money, Steve,” Bucky says, “I appreciate it but you don’t have to keep buyin’ me things. This tattoo is too much already,” he gestures to his arm. 

“I like treatin’ you s’all,” Steve says, “besides, you’re out of a job now.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky huffs out a laugh, “shit.” 

“You know, even drunk, that sketch you did was really good,” Steve says as he pulls onto the road, “you could always do something with art.” 

“You think?” Bucky asks. There’s something in Bucky’s voice as he asks the question that hits Steve, like he never even gave it a thought. 

“Yeah, man,” Steve says, with a smile, nudging Bucky’s side with his own, “you like to paint?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, “yeah I do, but it’s been a long time.” 

“That don’t matter none,” Steve shrugs, “it’s just like ridin’ a bike, if you can draw that good still, you could paint no problem.” 

They head home with bags full of junk food Steve’s sure he’s gonna pay for later if he eats, having gone so long without, and the store’s whole four box supply of Bucky’s favorite brand of condoms. It’s just after dark by the time they pull into the driveway and Steve’s just about exhausted, both emotionally and physically. He strips down to his boxers as he makes his way down the hallway to his- their bedroom, and drops down onto their bed. He hears Bucky walk in behind him and set the rest of the bags on the bed next to him. The mattress dips as Bucky climbs on behind him and settles between his spread legs. He peels Steve’s boxers down under his ass and Steve adjusts his position, resting his head on his forearm with a sigh as Bucky leans down to press a gentle kiss to Steve’s cheek. 

Steve hums contentedly as Bucky kisses lower, pressing his hands into the meat of Steve’s ass and squeezing. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice muffled against his arm. Bucky answers by spreading his cheeks apart and Steve takes in a sharp breath, lifting up on his elbow to look back at him. He smiles as Steve meets his eyes then kisses his cheek again and Steve relaxes. He’s never exactly had anyone put their mouth there, on him in that way, he’s thought about it plenty of times for sure, wanted it even, and done it to his ex himself plenty of times. 

“Can I?” Bucky asks, his lips tickling against the soft hairs on Steve’s left cheek. 

“What about the movies?” Steve asks, swallowing his want. Still wanting to help Bucky get his mind off things, but he guesses this is just as good a way to do that as any. 

“We can watch ‘em after,” Bucky says, “unless you don’t want me to.” 

“No-” Steve says, shaking his head, “I mean yeah, I want you to, but lemme get cleaned up first, I’ve been sweatin’ all day.” 

“Don’t care,” Bucky says, “besides, I wanna taste you, not soap.” Steve lets out a noise at that, torn somewhere between being grossed out and turned on, however one wins over the other pretty quick as want gets the better of him. He gets up on his knees, spreading his legs wide and burying his face into his pillow, his cock hanging heavy between his thighs, already responding. 

Bucky takes hold of him again, spreading him wide with thumbs pressed to either side of his hole and leans forward. The first gentle press of Bucky’s tongue against his hole makes his legs go weak under him, the heat of it melting through his body. Bucky hums against his skin, lapping at him as Steve’s eyes flutter shut, surrendering to the sensation. As Bucky works him over, he turns his head, chancing a glance back to see Bucky’s hand shoved into his open jeans, moving against himself and Steve’s gut tightens as he watches him. 

Steve’s back arches, pushing back against Bucky’s mouth as he runs his tongue down to mouth at his balls. He closes his eyes again as Bucky lets go of himself and takes hold of Steve’s balls instead, supporting them in his palm as he presses wet, open mouth kisses over them, sucking gently at the folds of skin gathered around them as he holds them up. They jump in Bucky’s hand as Steve’s cock twitches, leaking onto the blanket below. Satisfied, Bucky lets them go, turning his attention back to Steve’s waiting hole. 

“Fuck,” Steve sighs, “you got a mouth on you, pal.” 

“Feels good, don’t it?” Bucky asks against his skin, the vibration of his voice sending a shiver through Steve’s body. 

“Mm hmm,” Steve hums, licking his lips as he rolls his hips back, “I gotta do this to you, Buck,” Steve breathes out, “fuck, it feels good.” 

“Nobody ever done this to you before?” Bucky asks between licks, “not even that friend of yours?” 

Steve shakes his head, “no- fuck,” he lets out a long moan, rolling his hips back as Bucky hums against him again, the events of the day melting away on Bucky’s tongue. 

Bucky grabs hold of him tighter, spreading him again with one hand as he presses his face against Steve’s ass and pushes his tongue in. Steve’s whole body shudders, his legs threatening to give out as Bucky works his tongue into him, lapping at his rim. Steve loses track of time, everything around him slowing to a stop until he hears a string of choked off moans escape Bucky’s lips as he stills his mouth, resting his cheek against him, his panting breathes tickling Steve’s skin. 

“Think you could come just from this?” Bucky asks, his voice raw and shaking. Steve isn’t sure but if Bucky keeps talking like that he thinks he just might. 

“I think I’ll be pretty fuckin’ close,” Steve huffs out a laugh that quickly turns into a whimper as Bucky presses into him again. He pulls back for a moment and Steve considers looking back to see what he’s doing but then he feels it, Bucky’s lubed finger pressing into him. 

“What about now?” Bucky asks as he hooks his finger just so and Steve feels sparks erupt through his body, heat pooling low in his gut, burning him from the inside. 

“Oh, shit,” he groans, his body shuddering as Bucky rubs his finger against him, his tongue still lapping at his hole. With every pass, Steve’s body pulls tight, begging for relief as the pressure inside him builds, his legs going weak as they struggle to hold him up. 

It happens fast, almost without warning. His body shakes, spilling onto the blanket beneath him in waves as Bucky works him through it with his finger, wringing every last just-this-side-of-painful drop Steve has to give until he can’t take it anymore and collapses into the mess. He’s pretty sure he must have blacked out, coming to as Bucky pulls his finger out of him. He’d never felt anything like that in his life and he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to move for days, his body still trembling with aftershocks. 

“You good?” Bucky asks from behind him. 

Steve groans his response, sucking back the drool threatening to spill out onto his pillow. “Oh my God,” is all he manages to get out as Bucky kisses his cheek again. 

“Okay,” Bucky huffs out a laugh, “I’m gonna go get cleaned up.” 

“Wait,” Steve says, mustering the strength to turn his head to look back at him, “what about you?” 

“I’m good,” Bucky smiles, “gotta do laundry tomorrow,” he laughs, “but I’m good.” 

“Wait,” Steve closes his eyes again, trying to make sense of Bucky’s words, “did you come in your pants?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, rubbing his hand against the back of Steve’s thigh, “sometimes a guy can’t help it, don’t hold it against me.” 

“Shit,” Steve groans, “that’s hot.” The thought of Bucky getting himself off to eating him out would stir something in him if he wasn’t sure his dick was going to be in recovery for the next couple of days at least, after that. 

“You should get cleaned up too,” Bucky laughs as he climbs off the bed. 

“I don’t think I can walk,” Steve says, his voice muffled against his pillow. 

“You’ll be fine,” Bucky says and Steve can hear his smile in his voice, “at least get up so I can pull the blanket off,” Bucky adds, tapping on Steve’s calf. 

“Mmm,” Steve hums in response as he does as he’s told, his body protesting every move. 

One long shower later and Steve’s back in bed under a fresh blanket, his body tired but comfortable, waiting as Bucky digs through his bag. When he finds what he’s looking for, he flips off the light and hits play on the VCR. 

“Do you smoke?” Bucky asks, settling down beside Steve under the covers. He pulls a hand rolled joint and a lighter out of the now empty Marlboro pack in his hand, looking over to Steve with raised eyebrows. 

“Sure,” Steve nods. It’s been years since he did but he figures they could both use it after today. 

Bucky sets the joint between his parted lips and brings the lighter to it, his cheeks hollow out as he takes a long drag, then hands it to Steve. “Cheers,” he coughs out, exhaling thick smoke into the room. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “cheers.” 

They don’t talk about the tests again after that, though Steve knows they’re still weighing heavily on Bucky because they’re weighing heavy on him too.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has short mentions of steve's first time (underage/pregnancy scare) and bucky's (drunk), both are brief and non-graphic, but heads up for it anyway.
> 
> NSFW art at the end of the chapter!

Rays of evening sunlight stream in through the open window, painting their bedroom in a soft golden glow. It illuminates Bucky’s tanned skin, damp with sweat, the slim muscles below catching the light as he moves. He’s beautiful like this- breathtaking, Steve thinks as he runs his palms up Bucky’s thighs, flexing under his grip as he rests his hands on his hips. He’s always beautiful. Ever since Steve first laid eyes on him, some part of him knew deep down that Bucky wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before, his one in a million, his second chance, and there’s not a day that goes by that he’s not grateful for him.

The curtains billow into the room every so often as the warm late spring breeze blows through, tickling the hair stuck to Steve’s forehead and curling around the nape of his neck. He lets out a long sigh, licking his lips as Bucky rides him slow, neither of them in a rush to finish. “Wish you could see yourself,” he says, running his hands up Bucky’s sides, his skin warm under his fingertips, “see what I’m seein’.” 

Bucky lets out a satisfied hum, reaching up a hand to rest it behind his head as he leans back, changing the angle of his hips. The new position makes Steve’s stomach tighten beneath him, his eyes fluttering closed. “We could put in a mirrored ceiling,” Bucky breathes out a laugh, “they’re kinda fun. I had a guy in Reno who only took me to rooms with one-” he whimpers softly as he rolls his hips, “said he liked watchin’ himself fuck.” 

Steve swallows, he’s gotten used to hearin’ about Bucky’s past since they’ve been together, he even likes that Bucky feels alright sharing it with him, but without fail it always comes with a twinge of something that twists inside of him. Kinda like jealousy, he figures, only he doesn’t wish it was him or nothin’, he wouldn’t trade what he’s got for a damn thing. He supposes it just can’t be helped, it’s just another part of being human. 

“He paid me extra to piss on him after,” Bucky adds, looking up at the ceiling, “while he wore his favorite lingerie.” 

“Jesus, Buck,” Steve breathes out, the image Bucky’s painted flooding his mind. Some guy, probably a lawyer or something, on his knees in shady motel room with a mirrored ceiling asking Bucky to do that. He guesses he can respect someone knowin’ what they’re into like that. “You into that sort of thing?” 

“I was into what I needed to be into,” Bucky shrugs, looking back down at him, “if they paid enough.” He rests his hand on Steve’s chest again, digging his fingers in as he closes his eyes, letting out a breathy moan. “I’ve got boundaries, of course, but that one wasn’t so bad.” 

“What _are_ you into?” Steve asks, his curiosity piqued. All sorts of possibilities run through his mind, not sure how he never thought to ask before. He may be inexperienced with these sorts of things but that don’t mean he doesn’t know about them. The thing is though, Bucky’s always been so open about his sexuality and experiences, Steve always figured he would have no problem asking if there was somethin’ he wanted him to do. 

“This,” Bucky smiles softly, looking at him again as he leans down, lowering himself onto his elbows. Steve closes his eyes as he presses their lips together, gentle and slow. They kiss for a moment, Steve’s hands roaming Bucky’s back as he opens up for more, but with a final nip at Steve’s bottom lip, Bucky pulls back, smiling as Steve looks up at him, “you.” 

“Yeah?” Steve smiles back, sure he’ll never get tired of hearing it as long as he lives. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says as he kisses him again, and after a moment, he sits back up. “Although,” he says, tracing a finger through the hair on Steve’s chest, “you might look alright in a pair of stockings.” His lips curl into a grin and Steve can’t help but laugh. 

“Shut up,” Steve says and Bucky lets out a laugh to match his own. 

“Nah, I’m kidding,” he shakes his head, still smiling, “you don’t have the legs for it.” 

“I got the legs for this though,” Steve groans as he lifts his hips, tipping Bucky forward until his face is pressed against Bucky chest. He drives into him, earning a string of choked off whimpers as Bucky holds on tight to the headboard, the sound of their skin slapping together filling the quiet room. 

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes out, “oh- keep going I-” his voice trails off into a whimper and Steve uses everything he’s got to keep thrusting. He runs his hands down Bucky’s back, digging into the muscle there as he holds on, his hips working in a quick, steady rhythm. It catches up to him faster than he wanted, having spent all evening playing at the edge, and soon his hips start to shutter, his body pulling tight. 

“Shit,” he groans as his body tenses, his cock pulsing inside Bucky as it fills the condom. 

After, they lay tangled together in the slowly darkening room. Steve ghosts his fingertips up and down Bucky’s side, his eyes closed as he listens to the steady sound of Bucky’s breathing. These are his favorite moments, calm and content in the afterglow of their passion, he wishes they would last forever. As they rest quietly, his mind wanders, there’s so many things he wants to know about Bucky, huge pieces of his life remain a mystery still- “tell me about your first time,” he says, breaking the silence between them as his curiosity gets the best of him. 

“Hmm?” Bucky asks, “oh, um-” he pauses for a moment, “okay.” He nestles his head down against Steve’s shoulder, “you remember those guys I told you I went to get the tattoo with? The ones I joined up with?” 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, thinking back to that conversation the first night he stayed with Bucky, “sure.” 

“Well, we had a graduation party, sort of a going away kind of thing. Just a bunch of all our friends meeting up at one of their houses to get trashed together one last time,” he lets out a laugh as he rubs his thumb against Steve’s chest where his hand is resting. “We were all drunk and there was this pool table in Cindy’s folks basement so a bunch of us were down there having like a little tournament and I was up.” 

“You any good at pool?” Steve asks, he might like to take Bucky out to play some if he’s up for it, some time. 

“No,” Bucky laughs, “not at all, which is why I lost.” He shakes his head, “anyway, so I bent over to line up the shot, you know?” Steve nods and Bucky continues, “and right as I did, my buddy Brad grabs me by the hips and pretends to fuck me, which makes everyone in the room bust out laughing, even me. Guys just think that’s the funniest shit, you know? Acting gay when you’re not- only the thing is, I could feel that he was hard when he was bumping his dick against my ass, which you know,” Bucky shrugs, “got me all flustered, I never even kissed a guy at that point. So I take the shot and miss, which means I’m out and I go to sit on the couch to try and hide my boner.” 

“Were you into Brad before that?” Steve asks. 

Bucky huffs out a laugh, “I was into any guy who was nice to me, Steve. I was just a lonely little gay kid looking for some kind of closeness with another person, but so afraid of people finding out.” Steve tries to imagine what that would be like at that age, piled on top of everything else. How hard it would be to feel isolated like that, not being able to be yourself. He had his ex, he had Sam, he never had to go through that and he feels for Bucky, deeply. 

“Anyway,” Bucky continues as Steve pulls him in tighter, “so the party starts winding down, people start heading back up to the first floor, pretty soon all that’s left is me and Brad down there. He sits down on the couch next to me and starts going on about how he planned to ‘get his dick wet’ that night but there wasn’t any ‘good tail’, and at this point I’m just drunk enough to say something without really thinking it through so I just down the rest of my beer and say, ‘you can fuck me if you want.’ 

“Damn,” Steve says, surprised, “you just went for it, huh?” 

Bucky laughs, “I still can’t believe I said that.” 

“So what happened?” Steve asks, reaching up to push the hair back off his forehead. 

“He fucked me,” Bucky shrugs, “right there on that couch with my face pressed into the cushion. He just used spit for lube and it burned so bad that I cried but I was so happy, it was like I finally felt like I was free to be me for the first time.” Steve presses a kiss to his temple, glad he got to have that moment but wishing it would have been better for him. “It was over really fast, I didn’t even come but it was one of the best nights of my life at that point.” 

“What happened after?” Steve asks, resting his cheek against Bucky’s hair. 

“We didn’t talk about it again but I blew him in the barracks bathroom one night while he assured me he was straight. I don’t know what happened to him after that,” Bucky pauses as he sighs, “what about your first time?” he asks, turning to look at Steve again. 

“Mine's boring,” Steve huffs out a laugh, not much of a story compared to Bucky’s moment of self discovery. 

“I bet it was some perfect teen romance moment,” Bucky smiles, “did you do her in the back of her dad’s car at a drive in movie or something?” 

“Not exactly,” Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Okay, well,” he starts, “I was sixteen, all of 5’4’’ and skinny as a rail-” 

“I can’t imagine you skinny,” Bucky shakes his head, turning to look him over, “or small.” 

“I’ve got pictures,” Steve says, turning to meet his eyes, “if you wanna see.” 

“Really?” Bucky asks with a smile, “yeah!” 

“Okay,” Steve huffs as he untangles himself from Bucky’s limbs and climbs off the bed. He opens his closet and finds the old cardboard box on the floor in the corner, the layers of tape holding it together starting to peel again. He kneels down and digs though it until he finds his mom’s old photo album and smiles. 

“Here,” he says, climbing back onto the bed. He settles down next to Bucky again and cracks it open. The plastic film covering the photos stick to each other as he turns each page. 

“Is that your dad?” Bucky asks, pointing to an old faded picture of his parents, younger than he ever saw them, standing in front of their old family car. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, looking back at the face of his father. He forgot what he looked like, it’d been so long since he looked at these pictures. 

“You look like him too,” Bucky says with a smile, running a finger over the thin plastic covering his father’s face, “is that what your chin looks like? I was afraid you didn’t have one,” he turns to look at Steve. 

“Maybe I’ll shave one day and show you,” Steve smiles back. 

“Well, I don’t know about all that,” Bucky says, leaning in to press his lips to Steve’s, “I like the beard.” Steve’s glad to hear that if he’s being honest, his jaw line’s a little softer than he would like. Not the strong, sharp jaw he had when he was younger, and his beard does a good job of covering it up. 

“Good,” Steve smiles as he turns the pages toward the back of the album until he finds one of his goofy old high school portraits. “There,” he says, turning the album back toward Bucky, “see.” 

“Oh my God,” Bucky smiles like he’s looking down at a baby, “look at you, you were so cute!” Steve smiles, his cheeks going a little warm with a mix of pride and embarrassment. “I definitely would have had a crush on you if we went to school together,” Bucky looks up at him with a grin, “damn, what happened?” 

“Hit my big growth spurt after high school, started bulking up. I got into really good shape in my twenties,” Steve shrugs, “but after everything happened I just gave up, just didn’t seem important anymore.” 

“I’m glad,” Bucky says, patting Steve’s stomach, “I think you look good with some meat on you.” He squeezes some of the extra fat there that Steve hasn’t quite learned to love about himself yet. Still self conscious about his looks, about how his body has changed over the years. It’s a long process that he’s still working on, but having someone like Bucky around helps a lot, even if he’s not inclined to believe him. 

“Hey,” Steve laughs, pushing him off, “come on.” 

“I mean it,” Bucky smiles, “wouldn’t even mind if you put on a little more,” he says, rubbing his hand against Steve’s stomach again, “got a real gut and everything, it’s sexy.” 

Steve huffs out a laugh as Bucky hand moves over his skin, his mind telling him Bucky’s making fun of him but the way Bucky’s touching him, the tone of his voice, makes Steve think that maybe he’s serious. 

“I could fuck your tits,” Bucky smiles as he leans down to kiss Steve again, “just push ‘em together and slide my dick right in.” 

“Okay,” Steve huffs out a laugh, “alright, come on.” As tempting an offer as that is, he’s not ready for that sort of thing, not yet anyway. It’s going to take a lot more work until he’s comfortable enough with his body for anything close to that. 

“Just think about it,” Bucky says as he nips at Steve’s bottom lip, “okay?” 

“You wanna hear the story or not?” Steve asks, closing the album and setting it beside him on the bed, trying to change the subject to something he’s more comfortable with. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, settling back down on his pillow, “please continue.” 

“Alright,” he starts, “so I used to sneak into her room a couple nights a week after her folks were asleep, just to listen to music and talk, or watch a movie or something. Sometimes we’d make out a little, if I was lucky she’d let me get some over the bra action in,” he laughs. “Anyway, so one night I show up like usual and she tells me she wants to have sex, that she doesn’t want to be the last one of her friends to lose her virginity and I’m a sixteen year old kid, I’m excited to lose it too, you know?” 

“Sure,” Bucky smiles, “of course.” 

Steve takes in a breath then continues, “so of course neither of us had condoms or anything, but we do it anyway and decide that I’m gonna just pull out, because that always works,” he huffs out a laugh, “anyway, I come too fast, didn’t pull out in time and we’re both terrified she’s going to get pregnant. We were beat over the head with ‘one time is all it takes’ in health class and all that, right?” 

“What happened?” Bucky asks, lacing his fingers in Steve’s. 

“Everything was fine, nothing happened,” he shrugs. 

“Well that’s good,” Bucky says, reaching over him to grab the photo album again. “You said you didn’t want kids, right?” 

“No,” Steve huffs out a laugh, “they ain’t for me, especially at that age,” he pauses, “God, could you imagine?” He watches as Bucky turns the pages of his family’s memories slowly, taking in each photo carefully until Steve’s eyes fall shut. 

“Hey,” Bucky clears his throat after a few minutes, breaking the silence, “I been thinkin’.” 

“‘Bout what?” Steve asks, opening his eyes again as he turns his head to look at Bucky. 

“Well,” Bucky sighs. He falls quiet again, his eyebrows pulled together like he’s considering something important. “I think I want to call my mom,” he says finally. Steve’s heart jumps, excited that he’s finally going to take that step but afraid of what Bucky might learn, what they might say to him. The last thing Steve wants is for Bucky to get bad news, for him to get hurt. 

“Shit, Buck,” Steve says, turning his body the rest of the way to face him and smiling his best reassuring smile, “that’s great!” 

“I wanna call her soon in case we get bad news,” Bucky continues, closing the album again and Steve’s stomach sinks. They managed to keep off the topic since their last conversation, though Steve knew it was still eatin’ away at him. He could tell by the way Bucky’s eyes turned sad every so often, how his bright as sunshine smiles dimmed a little at the edges. There wasn’t much use in tellin’ him it would all be alright, how could Steve know? Bucky was smarter than that anyway. Still, Steve did his best to reassure him, to ease it in anyway he could. “I want to make sure I got somethin’ good to tell her,” Bucky adds, “I think I’m ready.” 

“Okay, yeah,” Steve nods, reaching up to brush Bucky’s curls away from his forehead, “I’m proud of you, this is a big step.” 

“Thanks,” Bucky nods, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a half-hearted smile. 

“You should do it now before you talk yourself out of it again,” Steve says, brushing his thumb gently across Bucky’s cheek, “just like a bandaid, babe.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods again, letting out a breath, “yeah you’re right, just gotta do it.” He pulls his eyebrows together as he looks back at Steve, “you think it’s too late over there?” 

“Do they go to bed early?” Steve asks, looking over Bucky’s shoulder to the alarm clock on the nightstand. 

“Not usually,” Bucky says, “I don’t think so anyway.” 

“Should be fine,” Steve shrugs, settling back down next to him. “I’ll be right there with you,” he offers Bucky a smile, “if you want.” 

“Thanks,” Bucky says again. He reaches up and takes hold of Steve’s hand, pressing a gentle kiss to his palm, “I need you with me.” 

“You got it.” Steve tips Bucky’s chin up, “you can do this,” he says, leaning in, “I know you can.” He kisses Bucky softly. 

“Alright,” Bucky breathes out, pulling back, “come on.” He pats Steve’s thigh and moves to sit up. They pull on their boxers together in silence as a heaviness hangs between them, the air thick with Bucky’s nerves. Steve follows him out into the kitchen and takes a seat as Bucky grabs the phone off the wall and sits down next to him. He swallows as he stares down at the receiver so Steve wraps an arm around his waist and presses a kiss to his bare shoulder. 

They stay like that for a moment as Bucky works up the nerve. “Okay,” he nods finally, letting out a breath as he dials the number. Steve listens to it ring over Bucky’s shoulder, his stomach twisting, sick with nerves as he waits for the voice on the other end to pick up, praying they do. It feels like hours pass until suddenly there’s a click and a woman’s voice answers. 

“Hello?” she asks and Steve kisses Bucky’s shoulder again as an offering of support, feeling Bucky’s body go tense beneath his arms. 

“Hey, ma,” Bucky says, his voice wavering slightly as he gets the words out. 

“Bucky?” she asks immediately, her voice almost frantic and Steve’s heart breaks for her. He can’t imagine losing a child like that, having no idea where they are, if they’re even still alive. Even if he understands why Bucky did it, he can’t help but feel for his family. 

“Yeah,” Bucky’s voice breaks as he speaks, “how are you doing?” 

“Are you okay? Where are you?” she asks. Steve can hear the worry all over her voice and he knows it’s breaking Bucky inside. 

Bucky drops his head, rubbing his forehead with his hand, “I’m good, ma, I’m fine,” he assures her, “I’m living in Montana.” 

“Montana?” she asks, sounding shocked. 

“Yeah,” Bucky lets out a hint of a laugh like he can’t believe it either. 

“How’d you end up there?” she asks, “where have you been?” Steve knows this is the question Bucky’s been dreading, the one that’s been eating him up with worry that they won't understand, that they won’t accept the answer to. 

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky chokes out, his shoulders lurching forward. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay, baby, I was so worried,” she says as Steve rubs the pad of his thumb gently against Bucky’s stomach where his hand is resting as he listens. 

“I’m sorry, ma,” Bucky says again as Steve hooks his cheek over his shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” she assures him softly and Steve’s grateful for her understanding. 

“I thought you would be disappointed, I couldn’t face you guys-” Bucky says quickly, spilling himself out to her. 

“Oh, honey,” she soothes, “I could never be disappointed in you.” 

Bucky lets out a soft laugh and reaches up to wipe his eyes, “thanks.” 

“Are you okay?” she asks again. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods then pauses as he swallows thickly. “I met someone,” he admits and Steve takes in a breath, not sure how they’re going to take the news. 

“That’s great!” she says, “what’s her name?” There’s a heavy pause as Bucky drops his head into his hand. Steve kisses his shoulder again, urging him to go on and Bucky lets out a deep sigh. 

“His name’s Steve,” Bucky says finally, closing his eyes as he braces for the worst. 

She’s quiet for a moment and Steve can feel Bucky’s heart breaking, he twists his fingers in the phone cord nervously as he waits for her response. “Is,” she pauses again, “is he good to you?” she asks finally. 

“Yeah, ma,” Bucky huffs out, “he’s great, I’m really happy.” 

“Then I’m happy for you, sweetheart,” she says and Bucky swallows, his body relaxing in Steve’s arms and he feels a huge wave of relief wash over him, he can’t imagine how Bucky must feel. It’s the validation Bucky’s needed for years, it’s the confirmation that his mom supports him for who he is. 

“Thanks,” Bucky says, wiping his nose on his bare arm, “I love you.” 

“I love you too, honey,” she says and Bucky smiles, “I miss you so much, I was so worried.” Bucky nods and there’s another pause between them. “Do you want to talk to your father?” she asks. 

“No,” Bucky shakes his head, “no, just tell him I love him too, alright?” 

“Okay,” she says, “he misses you too, you know? So do Becky, Jen, and Mikey.” 

“I miss them too,” Bucky says. 

“You know Becky’s at Columbia?” she asks, “isn’t that incredible? She’s engaged to a very nice boy, and Jens’s graduating this year, she got into NYU,” she pauses, “Mikey’s a sophomore now, you’ve missed so much.” Steve had no idea they were that kind of family, even he’s impressed with Bucky’s sisters’ achievements, but Bucky never mentioned anything about growing up well off, which Steve assumes is the case. 

“I should go,” Bucky nods, his shoulders falling, “tell everyone I miss them, okay?” 

“Please don’t disappear again,” she says and Steve can hear the pleading in her voice and his heart breaks all over again. 

“I won’t,” Bucky nods again, his voice soft, “I promise.” 

“Tell Steve ‘hi’ for me,” she says and Bucky lets out a breath as he smiles. 

“Okay, ma, I will-” 

“Hi, Mrs. Barnes,” Steve says over Bucky’s shoulder toward the receiver and Bucky huffs out a laugh. 

“Is that him?” she asks. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, smiling still, “that’s him.” 

“He sounds handsome,” she says, “and polite too? Quite a catch, huh?” 

“He’s alright,” Bucky laughs again, “I think I’ll keep him around.” Steve smiles against the warm skin of Bucky’s shoulder, his ears going red. 

“Alright, I’ll let you go,” she says, “please call me again.” 

“Okay, ma, I will,” Bucky says again. 

“Bye, baby.” 

“Bye.” Bucky ends the call and drops his head into his hands again. 

“You okay?” Steve asks, squeezing Bucky’s hip and Bucky nods. He’s quiet for a moment until Steve feels his shoulders start to shake against him as he lets out a choked off sob. Steve pulls him to his chest and Bucky turns into him. “Hey,” Steve says softly, running his hand through Bucky’s hair, holding him close as Bucky lets it all out, unsure what else to say. “You did it.” Bucky’s emotions come flooding out of him and Steve’s chest tightens as Bucky cries, his own emotions threatening to bubble to the surface. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, sniffing back his running nose, “I’m not upset,” he says as he wipes his reddened, puffy eyes on the back of his hand, “just,” he pauses again, “relieved, I guess.” 

“It’s been a long time comin’,” Steve soothes, rubbing his hand against Bucky’s back. 

“Thanks for sittin’ here with me,” Bucky says as he wraps his arms around Steve’s waist, “don’t think I coulda done it without you.” 

“She loves you, Buck,” Steve assures him, “no matter what.” 

“I know,” Bucky nods, nestling his head against Steve’s shoulder. 

He lets out another choked off sob after a quiet moment, “I shouldn’t have waited so long to call, I put her through all that and for what?” Steve pulls him in tighter, tucking his chin over Bucky’s shoulder again. 

“You were just doin’ what you needed to, Buck, don’t beat yourself up over it.” 

* * *

“They must be really proud of their other kids,” Bucky says over their late dinner, pushing roasted root vegetables around his plate, “Columbia, NYU?” he huffs out a laugh, “Mikey’s probably in ROTC, getting primed to be the son my dad always wanted.” It’s quite the change from earlier but Steve’s glad to see Bucky back to being his old self again. He cried himself dry in that chair not two hours ago, letting out everything that’s built up over the last six years. 

“Nobody gets it right on their first try,” Steve says, trying to lighten the mood. 

Bucky lets out a sigh, “gee, thanks.” 

“Buck, you wouldn’ta been happy if you went along with their plan anyway,” Steve insists, “you know that. It wasn’t you, and if it’s what your brother wants, good on him, but that don’t concern you at all. You followed your own path.” 

“Hey, Bucky, what have you been up to all this time?” Bucky asks, mimicking what Steve assumes is his father’s voice, clearly not listening to a thing Steve said. “What am I supposed to tell them?” Bucky asks, looking up at Steve finally. 

“Tell ‘em the truth,” Steve shrugs, “no sense in hidin’ yourself from them anymore.” 

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, looking back at Steve with an expression that punches him in the gut. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “I’m proud of you for makin’ your own way all this time and they should be too.” 

Bucky swallows and looks back down at his plate, “you don’t know them, Steve,” he says, “the shit I had to deal with my dad sayin’ about people like me growing up? It’s going to be bad enough him finding out I’m gay, much less that I’ve been fuckin’ guys for money all this time.” 

“You mom was fine with you bein’ gay, Buck,” Steve says, “and if your dad don’t like it, that’s his own problem, not yours.” He shoves a chunk of parsnip into his mouth, “that’s on him. If he doesn’t like his own son just for the company he keeps, just means he’s a shitty person and you don’t need him around anyway.” 

“You’re right,” Bucky lets out a sigh, “but it still hurts.” 

“Sure it does,” Steve says, “it’ll hurt like hell, but you’ll be all the better for it.” Steve pauses for a moment before adding, “and she didn’t even care any about you bein’ discharged.” 

Bucky is quiet for a moment as he looks Steve over. “I sure am glad I met you,” he says, finally. 

“Aw, shucks, Buck,” Steve huffs out a laugh as he leans back in his chair, “you really mean that?” 

“Shut up,” Bucky laughs, shaking his head as he looks down at his plate. 

“I’m glad I met you too,” Steve says, as soft smile spreading on his lips, “you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

Bucky smiles down at his food, filling Steve with a comfortable warmth as he watches him blush. “You know,” Bucky says, looking back up at him finally, “you’re my best thing too.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter includes vague mentions of HIV/STI tests and results (negative of course, don't worry)

**TWO MONTHS LATER**

* * *

“Can I use your phone?” Bucky asks out of the blue as they rest together in the cool living room on a sunny afternoon in July, their work for the day done early. He looks over to Steve from where he’s sitting cross legged on the couch, Chunk curled up comfortably in his lap as he scratches behind her ears. Some part of Bucky still sees this as Steve’s home, Steve’s things, no matter how much Steve assures him otherwise. It doesn’t bother him so much as he just wishes Bucky would let himself be comfortable enough to put down some roots, to really make a home out of this place with Steve by his side. Steve tells himself maybe it’s because Bucky’s been moving around so long, drifting from place to place on the wind, that he must not be ready to settle down in one place just yet, maybe it’s just gonna take time. He makes a point to ignore the nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that Bucky’s just been holding out, too afraid of losing everything to let himself make a real home here.

“I need to make that appointment,” Bucky continues and Steve’s heart practically stops in his chest. “Wanna make you one too, just in case,” he adds, looking back down at his lap. 

Steve swallows, staring at Bucky for a moment. A heavy beat passes between them until Steve finally speaks, his voice struggling against his dry throat. “Yeah,” he says, nodding, “of course, yeah.” He knew this day was coming, been waiting a long time for it, but now that it’s finally here he wishes it didn’t come so soon. They just need a little more time to really enjoy their time together in case the results change everything, they’ll never be able to go back. 

“Thanks,” Bucky says, setting Chunk on the floor gently, she lets out a grumble in protest as he stands. Steve stays where he is, his chest tight as he watches Bucky dial the phone and take a seat at the kitchen table, twisting the coiled phone cord in his fingers nervously as he waits. Suddenly, he drops the cord and sits back up. “Yeah, hi,” he says, “I’d like to make an appointment for an STD screening.” 

Steve lets out a deep breath as he listens, his heart beating fast against his ribs. 

“Yes,” Bucky continues, “Barnes, James, March 10, 1972,” he pauses, “yes, I’m high risk,” he falls silent again as he listens. After a quiet moment, he clears his throat, “I’d also like to make one for my, um,” he glances up at Steve quickly before looking back down at the table, “boyfriend, as well?” 

Despite everything, Steve can’t help the hint of a smile that finds itself on his lips at hearing the title. That conversation hadn’t come up yet, neither of them in a rush to put an actual label on anything. They’ve always been content just being together, whatever that meant at any given time. Still, it sure felt nice hearin’ it, like some sort of validation that Bucky sees them having a future together, a glimpse of hope. 

“Rogers, Steven, um,” Bucky pauses again, holding his hand over the receiver as he leans toward Steve, “what year were you born?” he mouths. 

“1963,” Steve answers. 

“July 4th, 1963,” Bucky says as he sits back again, the rest of Steve’s birth date easy enough for him to remember seeing as they celebrated it not more than a week ago. They spent the day at the town’s little Independence Day BBQ and fair then drove up to Missoula for the firework show that night. They parked far enough away at the back of a field to avoid other people but still have a good view of the show and fucked in the bed of Steve’s pickup as a sea of colors exploded in the sky above them. The way the light reflected off Bucky’s skin as Steve moved in him, the sounds of them together beneath the echoing booms in the night sky still warm with the lingering heat of the day, still feels fresh on his mind until Bucky speaks again, bringing him back to the present. 

“Okay,” Bucky nods, “great, thank you.” He hangs up the phone, “they can get us in on Tuesday at 12:45,” he says as he joins Steve back in the living room. He lets out a deep breath as he takes his seat next to Steve on the couch, those three letters and all the pain and heartbreak that come with them hanging heavy between them still, now more than ever. 

They’re quiet that night, both too sick with nerves to do anything but lay together in the dark. Steve closes his eyes, listening to the sound of Bucky’s soft breaths beside him as his mind races, consumed with the worst outcomes. The soft touch of Bucky’s hand finding his own under the sheet helps to bring Steve out of it, and he suspects it helps Bucky too as he laces their fingers together without a word. Steve swallows thick against his tight throat, brushing his thumb against the soft skin on the back of Bucky’s hand as he holds it. The worry between them going unspoken as he puts everything he can’t bring himself to say into the gesture. 

Tuesday comes around slow, it felt like weeks passed in a matter of four days and Steve’s still not ready, the optimism that came so easily to him in the beginning long since faded into cold realism, readying himself for the worst. He pulls into a parking spot at the clinic and shuts off the engine. “Hey,” he says, his voice struggling in his throat as he takes Bucky’s hand in his own, “whatever happens, I’m with you and I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, looking down at their hands, “yeah, Steve, I know.” He lets out a deep breath then meets Steve’s eyes, “me neither.” With that, Steve leans forward, tipping Bucky’s chin up to press their lips together, soft and slow, just for a moment before he pulls back. 

“Ready?” he asks, looking Bucky over as he rests his hand on the door handle. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods again, opening his door. 

* * *

If the wait to get the tests felt long, the wait for the results was unbearable. Falling into his old habit of spending days working out in his shop to keep his mind off things helped as much as it could. In the quiet solitude of that space he could focus on the seemingly endless tasks at hand, occupying his thoughts with intricate detail work or repetitive motions like hand sanding furniture. Bucky though, spent his days between sketching on the porch and tending the gardens, filling pages with scenes from around the property or portraits of Chunk. Each night they watched movies together, curled up in their bed, they offered a decent distraction for a few hours before they turned in to get what little sleep they could. 

Twelve excruciating days later they finally got the results in the mail. Bucky carries them into the living room and drops them onto the coffee table without a word, Steve knows instantly what they are and his stomach drops out from under him. As he stares down at them, Bucky takes a seat next to him on the couch, resting his chin in his hands as he stares down at them too. It feels like hours pass as they sit in silence, the letters waiting unopened on top of the Missoula College and University of Montana curriculum booklets and admissions papers that Bucky sent away for a few weeks ago, scattered over the table. 

“Want-” Steve clears his throat, his fragile voice cutting through the silence, having finally worked up the nerve to speak, “want me to open them?” 

Bucky nods without looking away from them and Steve lets out a deep breath, swallowing back the bile rising in his throat. He reaches out for them and reads the names on each, “which do you want me to read first?” 

“Yours,” Bucky answers quickly as he sits back, pulling one of his legs up to tuck it under the other, “read yours first.” His voice almost pleading as he chews on his thumb. 

Steve nods, setting Bucky’s down in his lap, and rips his open. Scanning the letter, he searches the sea of text as his heart pounds in his ribs until he sees it, _negative_. Negative for everything. He lets out another breath and can’t help but smile as he looks back at Bucky, a portion of the heaviness that had been weighing him down, lifted. 

“Negative,” he breathes out, “I’m fine.” He hands the letter to Bucky to see for himself, “I’m fine, Buck.” 

“Oh, thank God,” Bucky’s voice breaks as he grabs hold of Steve’s hand, squeezing it firmly. “Fuck” he lets out a breathy laugh, “what a fuckin’ relief.” It feels like a win but there’s still the matter of Bucky’s results to get through and Steve doesn’t want to get to celebratin’ just yet. 

“You ready for yours?” he asks. 

Bucky is quiet for a moment, his hand trembling in Steve’s grip. “Yeah,” he nods finally, his eyes shining, “yeah, I’m ready.” 

Steve opens Bucky’s envelope, pulling the letter out he quickly searches for the results, terrified at what he might find. His eyes find them easily this time and his heart skips a beat. “Negative,” he breathes out with a grin. “Negative,” he says again, dropping the letter on the coffee table as he lunges forward, wrapping Bucky in his arms and holding him tight. It hits him then, everything comes flooding out, his eyes burning as he peppers kisses across Bucky’s jaw. “We’re fine, babe,” he laughs against Bucky’s skin, “we’re okay.” 

Bucky lets out a breathy laugh, pulling Steve in tighter, he catches Steve’s mouth, kissing him deeply as they shed the weight of the last few months, together in each other’s arms. 

“Let’s go celebrate,” Steve says, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand as he pulls back to meet Bucky’s eyes, unable to stop the grin on his face, “we can go to that honky tonk on the corner.” 

“You serious?” Bucky asks, huffing out a laugh, “you actually _want_ to go into town?” 

“Don’t you?” Steve asks, "we can get drinks and I’ll teach you how to shoot pool like you know what you’re doin’.” 

“Okay,” Bucky smiles, brushing his fingers through the fallen hair over Steve’s forehead. 

Steve takes hold of Bucky’s hand, bringing it to his lips to press a soft kiss against his palm. “Yeah?” he asks, his lips brushing against Bucky’s skin. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, still smiling, “yeah, let’s go.” 

Steve gets dressed in the new red buffalo check plaid shirt Bucky picked up for him a few weeks ago, figuring now’s a good a time as any to break it in. It’s a little tighter than he usually likes his shirts, a whole size smaller actually but Bucky insists it fits and Steve was inclined to believe him if the way Bucky eyed him over when he tried it on was anything to go off. He rolls the sleeves up and tries tucking it in before deciding it looks too formal, not to mention he doesn’t like the way it hugs his stomach, and opts for tails out instead. Bucky though, looks like a meal and a half in one of his plain white t-shirts under his old worn denim jacket, a little skin showing through the holes in the elbows. Steve almost suggests they stay in instead, mouth watering as he watches Bucky from the bed, his hand stuffed into the front of his snug jeans as he adjusts himself. They could just spend the night together here, now that he’s finally able to get to know Bucky’s body in the ways he’s wanted to for so long, but then Bucky gives him a little smile the lights up the room and asks him if he’s ready and Steve can’t bring himself to mention it, they've got all the time in the world for that now. 

They decide on the retro drive-in on the edge of town for dinner. It's been so long since Steve's actually eaten there to remember, but if their milkshakes are anything to go on, the food should be incredible. It’s the perfect place for celebratin’ and he wants to treat Bucky to something special. As much as Steve loves Eddie’s, they've both been there plenty enough. The sun’s still out when they get their food, shining low on the horizon, illuminating everything in a soft golden glow and there’s a light breeze blowin’ through to keep the covered dining area cool enough to be comfortable. Bucky looks, well, somethin’ more than beautiful in this lighting, it plays off the warm tone of his skin like it was made just for him. 

“Looks awesome,” Bucky smiles at him from across the worn picnic table as he dips a couple of curly fries into one of his little paper cups of fry sauce. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, a smile spreading across his lips as he brings his burger to his mouth, “good choice.” They’re both quiet for a moment as they eat but Steve can’t stop looking at Bucky, can’t stop thinking about how grateful he is to have this man in his life, as a lover, as a partner, as a friend. As he watches Bucky, he can’t help but picture their future together, years, decades down the road, it all seems limitless in its possibilities now. They’re gonna be okay, no matter what. He smiles again as Bucky meets his eyes between bites. “You gonna call your mom again?” he asks finally, “give her the good news?” 

“I’d have a lot of explaining to do first,” Bucky says, “not sure if I’m ready for that conversation.” 

“Yeah, I get it,” Steve nods, taking a sip off their shared chocolate malt, “but I think you ought to tell her sooner rather than later.” 

“I know,” Bucky sighs, taking another bite off his burger. 

“I mean,” Steve shrugs, “what if we-” he pauses, looking out at a minivan passing by on the street, “what if we go back there to visit some time, it’s bound to come up over dinner or something.” 

“Did you just say ‘we’?” Bucky asks, looking back up at him with a smile. 

“Yeah,” Steve huffs out a laugh, “I just meant-” 

“Would you visit my family with me?” Bucky asks, his tone shifting to something more serious now, like he never even considered Steve would want to, “meet my parents and all that?” 

“Sure I would, Buck,” Steve insists, reaching out to take hold of Bucky’s hand across the table. 

“That’s an awful big step,” Bucky huffs out a laugh, lightening the conversation again, “you sure you’re ready for that kind of commitment?” 

Steve swallows, he doesn’t know how to tell him that ain’t even the biggest commitment he could see himself making to him, if it was even possible that is. “You just gonna keep trying to talk me out of it?” Steve laughs back, deciding that’s a conversation for another time. 

“Nah,” Bucky shakes his head, “I’d really like that actually.” 

* * *

It’s a Sunday night so the bar’s pretty empty when they walk in which ain’t so bad, just means there’s less folks around to ask questions. The town’s been good to them so far, those who know are understanding even, but as they both know, strangers come and go on the highway all the time and there’s always a nagging fear at the back of Steve’s mind that the wrong person is going to take issue with them bein’ out together. But besides all that, it also means the pool tables and juke box are up for grabs without much in the way of competition. Steve teaches Bucky to shoot while Dolly sings over the crackling speakers. It’s fun, more fun than they’ve had in a while and it sure makes Steve feel warm, seein’ Bucky laugh and smile like this again. Bucky gets pretty good too, even wins a game or two and Steve wasn’t even goin’ easy, honest. That is until the drinks start catching up to them which Steve is all too quick to point out with a grin. 

A few more rounds down and as the last of the other patrons clear out for the night, they slow dance to ballads with Bucky resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as they sway in the empty room. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier,” Bucky says quietly, his lips brushing against Steve’s neck as he speaks. 

“Me neither, Buck,” Steve smiles as he turns his head to press a gentle kiss to Bucky’s cheek, “me neither.” 

* * *

“We’re in no shape for driving,” Steve says, more than a little drunk as they walk out the door finally, leaving the bartender to close up in peace, “we could try calling a cab or something.” 

“It’s raining,” Bucky says, reaching his hand out from under the awning, catching the drops on his skin. 

“We can wait inside,” Steve suggests, gesturing back toward the door, “if you want to. I’m sure Betty wouldn’t mind.” 

“I got a better idea,” Bucky smiles as he turns to Steve and grabs hold of his shirt front with both hands. “Let’s go back to the motel,” he leans in, catching Steve’s lips with his own, “spend the night together again.” 

“Yeah?” Steve asks, grabbing Bucky by the hips and pulling him in tighter against him as he kisses him again. 

“What d’ya say, big guy?” Bucky asks against Steve’s lips, “for old times sake.” 

“Let’s go,” Steve smiles. 

It’s not a long walk to Eddie’s but it sure is a wet one, they’re both soaked through and shivering by the time they reach the motel’s lobby. 

“Well hey there, Jimmy,” the woman behind the desk says with a smile as they walk in, the little bell above the door jingling as she turns off her small TV set. 

“Jimmy?” Steve mouths toward Bucky as he shakes the rain off his jacket. 

Bucky waves his hand, dismissing Steve’s question as he turns back to the woman. “Hey, Cheryl,” he smiles. 

“It’s sure been a minute since I’ve seen you!” she smiles back as she smacks her gum loudly, “thought you moved on months ago.” 

“Been livin’ up on the mountain with my boyfriend,” Bucky says, his ears turning pink as he gestures toward Steve, waiting by the door. It still gives Steve butterflies every time Bucky calls him that. 

“Boyfriend?” Cheryl asks, her eyebrows raised for a moment before she smiles again, “you settlin’ down, huh?” 

“Somethin’ like that,” Bucky smiles again. “Is my old room open?” he asks, setting his wallet down on the counter. 

“Sure is,” she nods, “we only got two folks tonight, rooms 1 and 2.” 

“Great,” Bucky says, “can we get it for the night?” 

“Sure thing,” she grins at Steve and winks, Steve smiles back, feeling too good to care. “Here ya go,” she says, handing Bucky the key. 

“Thanks,” Bucky takes it with a nod. 

“Try not to make a mess in there,” she says, “I gotta clean up after you, you know.” 

“Can’t make any promises,” Bucky smiles over his shoulder as he takes Steve by the hand and leads him out of the office.

“Jimmy, huh?” Steve grins as he leans against the wall, watching Bucky unlock the door to their room, “that’s a new one.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he opens it finally but Steve catches his smile. “You’re the only one I told to call me Bucky,” he explains as Steve follows him into the room and shuts the door behind them, “to everyone else I was James.” 

“Or Jimmy,” Steve smiles again, his cheeks burning from the whiskey or the cold, or something else, he doesn’t know, but Bucky is shrugging out of his soaked denim jacket and his almost see through white t-shirt is clinging to his chest and even though Steve’s seen every inch of Bucky’s body by now, this feels different, like he’s seeing him again for the first time. 

“Or Jimmy,” Bucky laughs, shoving Steve playfully, “I never felt like a Jimmy.” Bucky’s cheeks are flushed too and his damp curls are hanging over his forehead but Steve doesn’t get much of a chance to take in the sight before Bucky turns toward the bathroom, leaving him waiting by the door. While he waits, Steve brushes his hair away from his face and runs his hand down his beard, letting out a breath as he looks the familiar room over, then a laugh at nothing in particular. 

“Here,” Bucky says, tossing Steve a towel. 

“I can’t believe you let me sleep here the first time we met,” Steve says, rubbing the towel through his hair before turning to his shirt’s buttons, “you didn’t even know me.” 

“That wasn’t the first time we met,” Bucky huffs out a laugh, reminding Steve of the disaster that was their first conversation, “and I’m a pretty good judge of character, it ain’t like I’d let just anyone stay over.” 

“No, I know,” Steve says, pulling his wet shirt off his arms, not sure where he was going anymore, “I’m just sure glad you saw somethin’ in me worth taking a chance on.” 

“Right back at you, pal,” Bucky says, meeting Steve’s eyes with a smile. 

Steve huffs out a laugh, shaking his head at himself, “I’m getting sappy again, ain’t I?” he asks as he dries his torso. 

“Yeah,” Bucky laughs, “but I like it when you get sappy,” he adds, glancing over at Steve with a smile that makes Steve’s knees go weak under him. Bucky must have sensed it or something because without another word he drops his towel to the carpeted floor and takes a few steps forward into Steve’s space. He rests a hand on Steve’s bare chest, brushing his thumb gently through the hair there as Steve watches the movement closely. It sends a shiver running through his chilled body as they fall quiet for a moment, the sound of the rain pounding on the roof filling the last of the space between them. 

“I like a lot of things about you,” Steve says, head swimming from the whiskey or the way Bucky’s touching him, it’s hard to tell but either way he feels too good to care how cheesy that sounds, all that matters is makin’ Bucky smile. 

“Shut up.” Bucky’s lips pull into a soft smile that Steve can’t help but match as he leans in to kiss him. “I’m-” Bucky says against his lips as he pulls back, meeting Steve’s eyes again- “gonna need us to get into that bad as soon as possible,” he adds, reaching out to work on Steve’s fly with practiced fingers. “I’m startin’ to get cold.” 

“Guess we’ll just have to get you warmed up then,” Steve smiles, making himself laugh as Bucky leaves his fly pulled open to get to work on his own. Steve takes over then, stripping the cold, wet denim down his legs before turning to his boxers. He takes the lube and condoms out of Bucky’s jacket pocket and sets them on the bedside table, just in case, as Bucky climbs onto the bed. Before he can join him, Steve figures he’ll make their lives easier tomorrow and makes quick work of gathering up the rest of their clothes and drapes them over the shower curtain rod to dry. 

“C’mon, cowboy,” Bucky grins, patting the mattress beside him, his body warm and inviting, flushed skin laid out on an old white sheet, hair a mess. He’s breathtaking. Steve smiles fondly at the sight, he loves him, really loves him, like he’s never loved anyone before. “Get on in here,” Bucky says, bringing Steve out of his thoughts. 

He doesn’t need to be told twice so he climbs in, settling next to Bucky just like their first night together, the warmth of Bucky’s body radiating off him already as Steve pulls the covers over them. Without missing a beat, Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s torso, rolling them over so he’s pressed up against Steve’s back. Satisfied with their new position, he tucks his cheek against Steve’s neck and lets out a long, content sigh. 

“I had a really nice time tonight,” he says against Steve’s skin before pressing a small kiss there. 

Steve takes Bucky’s hand in his own, bringing it up to his lips to kiss the back of it, “I did too.” He returns their hands back under the blankets and laces their fingers together. “We oughta do it more often,” he adds, “go out, I mean.” 

“I’d like that.” Bucky smiles against his skin, making Steve smile in return. 

After a quiet moment, Steve clears his throat, “I been thinkin’,” he starts, “if we sell the house, we’d have the money to set us up in a little apartment in Missoula. I can get a job again, help you pay for school-” 

“We can’t sell the house,” Bucky insists, shaking his head, “I love that house and I know you do too,” he pauses, “we can rent it out, pay for an apartment that way.” Steve can’t say he’s not relieved to hear it, he really does love that property but it’s a sacrifice he’s more than willing to make. “And I thought you didn’t want to live in Missoula?” Bucky continues. 

“I don’t,” Steve admits. Painful memories aside, he likes the freedom living in the mountains gives him, a freedom you can’t get livin’ in the city. “But I can’t bare the thought of only seein’ you every couple of weekends,” he adds, turning his head to get a better look at Bucky, “but if you need that space I’ll understand, I won’t like it but I’ll make do.” It ain’t outta some sort of insecurity or trying to guilt Bucky in any way, he just means he respects Bucky and if he needs space to do somethin’ on his own, Steve won’t stand in his way. It’ll hurt but Lord knows Steve can wait. 

“I want you to come with me,” Bucky says, “and I think renting it out is the way to go, that way we’ll always have it to come back to when we need it.” 

“You’re right,” Steve smiles, “we got a lot of good memories there.” 

“Memories I’d hate to lose out on,” Bucky says, kissing Steve’s neck again, this time punctuated with a soft roll of his hips against Steve’s ass. That’s when Steve realizes Bucky’s cock is warm and full, bare against his skin with no restrictions. 

“Feels nice,” Steve sighs as Bucky rubs against him gently, “been waitin’ for this for so long, so much I been wantin’ to do with you.” He swallows, letting his eyes fall closed as he savors the feeling, “but I don’t want to get up.” He breathes out a tired laugh, nestling back against Bucky’s body, “I like havin’ you wrapped around me like this.” 

“We got time,” Bucky soothes, “there ain’t no rush.” He continues rolling his hips in a slow rhythm, their skin catching when he moves too much. “Besides, there’s plenty we could do without havin’ to move at all.” He smiles against Steve’s neck before reaching behind him to grab the lube off the bedside table. 

Steve listens as Bucky pops the cap and waits as he slicks himself up, his knuckles bumping against his ass, tickling the fine hairs on his skin until he’s finished. He settles back down, wrapping his arms around Steve again and lining himself up as he nestles his cock between Steve’s cheeks. “How’s that?” he asks softly. 

“Mmm,” Steve hums as Bucky moves his hips, sliding easily against him now, “s’good.” 

“If you were serious, I’d really like to take you back home,” Bucky says, breaking the silence as he keeps up his slow pace. “I don’t know if I could do it alone,” he lets out a small laugh. 

“We can try visiting over one of your breaks, if we start saving up now,” Steve says, smiling at the thought. 

“What about Christmas?” Bucky asks, “my mom always used to go all out for it,” he pauses for a moment, “wonder if she still does.” 

“I think we could manage that,” Steve says, turning his head back again, “what d’ya say we make a whole trip out of it?” he asks, “drive the truck, see the sights along the way. 

“Yeah?” Bucky smiles. 

“Yeah,” Steve smiles back before laying his head down on the pillow again. “Haven’t spent Christmas with anyone in a long time,” he says, remembering briefly the last Christmas he spent with his mom, bedridden and rapidly declining as he watched her waste away before his eyes. He shakes the memories from his mind, focusing instead on Bucky’s movements. 

“Me neither,” Bucky says quietly as he readjusts himself, this time pushing his cock between Steve’s thighs. He lets out a satisfied sigh as he starts to move again. 

“You warm yet?” Steve asks, changing the subject, undoubtedly a sore topic for Bucky as well. 

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes out a laugh, “I’m plenty warm.” 

It’s a comfortable sort of feeling, Bucky’s cock sliding between his thighs like this, his body brushing up against him with each slow thrust. Steve could lay like this for hours he thinks, probably fall asleep to the gentle rhythm Bucky maintains, if he’s being honest. But as nice as this is, he can’t ignore the nagging want building in his gut. 

When Bucky sinks into him later that night it burns, aches even. He takes his time, moving slowly as he pushes in little by little, letting Steve’s body adjust to him with as much time as he needs. Steve’s back arches, fingers gripping the sheets as he grits his teeth until he lets his breath go with a low moan. The pain slowly melts away as Bucky moves, taking him a steady rhythm, keeping himself buried deep within Steve’s body. They fit together, inside and out, almost like they were meant for each other, if Steve believed in that sort of thing anyway. 

Time seems to pass differently like this, it always does, like they’re the only two people in the world, completely lost in each other. By the time Bucky’s gripping onto his hips, his body trembling as he comes with a whimper, it could have been a matter of minutes or hours, Steve isn’t sure. He just closes his eyes, savoring the way Bucky pulses inside him. Afterward, Bucky’s softened cock slips out of him as he turns over, breathing their shared air as he takes the sight of Bucky in, cheeks flushed, eyes downcast, his curled hair sticking to his sweat damp forehead. 

After a few quiet moments, Bucky swallows before meeting Steve’s eyes. A beat passes as Steve waits for Bucky to say what’s on his mind, clearly something is weighing on him. 

“I love you,” he says finally. 

Steve takes in a small breath, they’ve said as much to each other in a hundred different ways but neither of them has spelled it out so plainly. It just never felt like the right thing to say, like it wouldn’t mean anything to Bucky until he was ready to hear it, until he was ready to believe it. Yet, here he is, laying beside Steve, baring himself as he waits to hear those three words back. 

Before Steve speaks, he leans forward, catching Bucky’s mouth with his own as he lays a hand on Bucky’s cheek, kissing him quick and soft. “I love you, too,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet Bucky’s eyes, wide and shining. “I love you, too.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a reference of what Bucky looks like, see this tweet: twitter.com/brookIynbrnes/status/1192784626735046656

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading this fic (and sticking with me as I took forever to finish it) I really appreciate all the support and kind words along the way, it really means a lot, thank you
> 
> also: if you already read chapter 12 in the last update, I added more to it!

**EPILOGUE**

2015

* * *

“You’re gonna do great, Buck,” Steve insists as he straightens Bucky’s tie, doing his best to ease Bucky’s nerves. The silver ring on his finger catches the dim backstage lights as he meets Bucky’s eyes with a smile, “you always do.” 

“Thanks,” Bucky smiles back, bright as ever, a sight Steve will never tire of seeing as long as he lives. It comes with a few more lines now of course, his eyes crinkling up a little at the corners and there's a few stray grays in his stubble, all cherished evidence of their years together. “I couldn’t do it without you,” Bucky adds. 

“Please welcome our guest speaker, Dr. James Rogers,” the man on the auditorium’s stage’s voice carries out and the waiting crowd begins to clap, setting off Steve’s own nerves. 

“Gotta go,” Bucky says as he presses a quick kiss to Steve’s lips. 

“Good luck,” Steve smiles again, patting Bucky on the shoulder as he turns away. He’s so proud of him, of the man he’s become, of the life they’ve built together. 

“Two decades ago I met a man who would go on to change my life forever,” Bucky’s voice carries through the room as Steve ducks passed the rows of people to find his seat. He’s seen Bucky speak at functions more times than he can count, heard him recount their lives together over and over but it never gets old, it’s like getting to live it all over again each time. “At a time when I was running from my family, running from my past, but mostly running from myself,” Bucky continues. He goes on to tell their story as Steve listens, smiling as Bucky shares parts of himself he once wanted so desperately to hide from his family, now using those experiences as a way to inspire those listening. It’s never too late to follow your dreams, he tells them, never too late to find happiness. 

“Five months ago, after a nineteen year engagement,” Bucky lets out a small laugh like he still can’t believe it, “that man finally became my husband.” 

Steve feels a tightness in his throat, his eyes going misty as he rubs his thumb against his wedding ring, unable to stop the smile on his face. 

“He’s with us here tonight,” Bucky continues, “Steve Rogers, the love of my life, everyone-” The crowd cheers and Steve’s face goes hot, the attention never gets any easier but Bucky is beaming up there on that stage and Steve wouldn’t change a thing for the whole damn world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Space nerd James "Bucky" Rogers (he definitely DID NOT take Steve's last name just so he could go by 'Buck Rogers' as a goof) and his husband, artist Steve Rogers, lived happily ever after, sharing their time between Houston, TX where Bucky works at the Johnson Space Center and their mountain home in Montana.


End file.
